


Good Directions

by Dracoduceus



Series: Dimes in a Jukebox [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Misunderstandings, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Human Bastion, Human Ganymede, Human Orisa, Human Zenyatta, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Jack owns a farm, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Rating May Change, based on a country song, farm au, punk!hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 135,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: Jesse was working the farm stand at Jack's Farm one Saturday morning when he met a beautiful stranger with an undercut and bridge piercing on the way to visit his sick mother. Unable to stop thinking of the man, Jesse wondered if it could be love at first sight.The next week when the stranger, named Hanzo, came back Jesse was sure that there could be a chance that it was if only they took the opportunity they were offered.





	1. Good Directions

**Author's Note:**

> I was sittin’ there sellin’ turnips on a flatbed truck  
> Crunchin’ on a pork rind when she pulled up  
> She had to be thinkin’ this was where rednecks come from  
> She had Hollywood written on her license plate  
> She was lost and lookin’ for the interstate  
> Needin’ directions and I was the man for the job
> 
> I told her way up yonder past the caution light  
> There’s a little country store with an old Coke sign  
> You gotta stop in and ask Miss Bell for some of her sweet tea  
>  **Then a left will take you to the interstate  
> **  
>  But a right will bring you right back here to me.  
> ~ _Good Directions_ by Billy Currington

Jesse sighed heavily, puffing out his cheeks as he fanned himself with the wide brim of his hat. It stirred the still air and did little to cool his sweating skin. “ _ Hotter‘n Satan’s asshole _ ,” he had said that morning, earning a solid cuff upside the back of his head by Angela but she hadn’t disagreed.

“Worse,” he told his thoughts as he thought wistfully of the cold glass of sweet tea he had taken with him. Now the ice was all melted and the sweet tea was tepid, tasting halfway to syrup with the heat. It was time to switch to the bottles of water he kept in a blue cooler tucked in the back of the farm truck but he was almost reluctant to reach for them; to do so meant moving and the hot, humid air made it feel closer to walking in molasses than anything and he knew that the temptation to grab a handful of ice and smear it over his hair and face would be nearly too great.

He could almost hear Angela’s chiding from earlier.  _ Drink plenty of water, Jesse. It’s hot out _ .

“Heat must be getting to you, Jess,” he said with a rough laugh, tipping his hat back on his sweaty head. Making a face, he pulled it off immediately. The lining was damp with his sweat and for the brief second it was resting on his head, the heat doubled. “You’re talkin’ to yourself again.”

He perked up a little when a plume of dust and gravel heralded a customer, wilting a little when he saw that it was mean Miss Gallagher. Nevertheless he levered himself to his feet with a groan, plopped his signature hat on his head, and wandered out to the stands. The awning there was more permanent and better angled against the sun to keep the produce there from baking. When Jack had initially built the stand a space had been made in the back for whoever was on shift to sit behind the table.

Jesse had shot it down quickly, pointing out that while it was shaded, the produce stand had no windows and the breeze – when present – wouldn’t reach him. Now the back of the enclosed stand held extra storage and some overstock items while Jesse himself wandered around the small stand or took refuge in a small pop-up awning next to his beat-up truck.

“’Mornin’ Miss Gallagher,” Jesse said as he approached the woman. Mean Miss Gallagher wasn’t particularly old so her…crabbiness was somewhat unexpected. Ana had once said that  _ being a spinster does that to you _ with mocking wisdom and Miss Gallagher had always seemed to Jesse like a woman lost in time enough to believe such a thing.

_ Not unlike you _ , Fareeha had teased the last time he had complained about Miss Gallagher, pinching his cheek with one hand while she stole the hat off his head with the other. She had immediately returned it with a disgusted groan when she found that it had been once more soaked in sweat. 

Miss Gallagher sniffed at him as she approached the fruit stand, daintily lifting her pretty little boots above the ground as if afraid that the gravel would stain them. “That is  _ not _ a proper greeting,” she said as she did every week when she visited. “And we are  _ not _ in the South, or wherever you got that irritating drawl of yours.”

Much to everyone’s amusement, Miss Gallagher of all people assumed that his drawl was faked; never mind that she had the tiniest Southern twang to a few of her words herself.  _ A woman  _ lost, Angela had agreed when Jesse had told her of his theory regarding Miss Gallagher’s original time.

Perhaps something had gotten lost in translation.

Perhaps  _ a lot _ of things had gotten lost in translation.

“’Pologies, ma’am,” Jesse said like he did every week, deepening the little drawl in his voice and tipping his sweaty hat politely. “Good morning. How are you today?” he was careful to enunciate each letter, tucking away his slight Southern drawl with some effort.

The high flush in Miss Gallagher’s cheeks told him she wasn’t pleased, but when was she ever? He bustled around at her beck and call.

Did he have corn? Yes, fresh sweet corn.

What about tomatoes? Four kinds were ready that day – what was she looking for?

Flowers? Yes, ma’am, red and pink roses and sunflowers; courtesy of Miss Ana’s large “garden”.

Was Angela making her jams? Yes, but she hasn’t built a stock yet so she hadn’t been able to share with the stand – if Miss Gallagher would go to the diner, she could get some there. (This, of course, wasn’t a suitable response and earned Jesse an impatient  _ huff _ .)

As Miss Gallagher was packing up her haul and trying to haggle down the prices as she did every week, a new car pulled up and Jesse bit back a sigh. He had been looking forward to a brief break between customers to cool himself down in the scant shade near his truck but obviously that wasn’t about to happen.

He hauled Miss Gallagher’s produce into her car while the newcomer pulled up on her other side as if trying to hide. The woman sniffed and got in her car to drive away but not before making a quip that Jesse should shower – his sweatiness was bound to scare away rather than attract customers.

“Goodbah, t’ y’ too, Miss Gallagher,” Jesse drawled, bringing back his accent again, waving to her as she pulled out and drove away. From the disgusted look she cast him, she heard it but chose to say nothing more as she put her car in gear and drove away. He winced when she hit a pothole too quickly, bouncing roughly on the road. “That can’t be good,” he said with a heavy sigh and made a mental note to tell Jack later that Miss Gallagher was likely going to make a nuisance of herself later.

The new customer’s car stopped and the door popped open as Jesse glanced over. It wasn’t a car he recognized, so it wasn’t one of his regulars, and when the driver finally stepped out, Jesse’s brows rose to the sweaty lining of his hat.

“Ain’t  _ you _ a cool drink of water,” Jesse said quietly to himself, for once understanding the turn of phrase. If the man heard, he gave no sign as he unfolded himself from the interior of his nice car with all the grace and poise of a sleek jungle cat. He tipped his hat back, wincing at the slip of sweat beneath his hat, and smiled as the man looked up. “Howdy.”

He tried not to shiver as the man’s dark eyes looked him up and down. “You’re certainly dedicated to a theme,” the man said with a slight accent. A metal barbell glittered at the bridge of his nose and his inky black hair was pulled up and back in a topknot over an undercut. He seemed unsure, crossing his arms self-consciously and Jesse’s mouth went dry as he took in the neat button-up shirt and slacks worn despite the oppressive summer heat.

Jesse found himself chuckling. “Naw, that’s just my style.” He tipped his hat toward the man. “Now, sir, what can I do ya for?”

The man flushed. “Ah,” he said, looking down. “I was told I could get flowers here?”

“Sure can!” Jesse replied. “ _ But _ I suppose it would depend on what you’re looking for. I’ve got some roses and sunflowers today.”

Flushing again, the man looked down and toed at the gravel. “My mother always loved sunflowers,” he said shyly. “I’m going to visit her.”

Jesse grinned. “Well how ‘bout that,” he exclaimed. “C’mon, I got some nice ones here.” Jesse ducked into the stand, sighing at the brief respite from the beating sun. The downside was that it seemed even more humid inside – why he had been so opposed to the seat in the back. “I always keep a few special ones with me,” Jesse called over his shoulder, listening to the shy man’s quiet footsteps.

“I heard that you have the best sunflowers in the area,” the man said softly from the door to the stand as he rooted around for the little bucket he kept his prizes in. “They are certainly beautiful.”

“Shoot,” Jesse said with a laugh as he found the bucket and lifted it over the produce and flowers. “Ana’s got some nice stuff but I’ll always have a special place in my heart for these.” He placed the bucket carefully on the ground between them, just at the edge of a tempting breeze; no wonder the man hadn’t come any closer, even as shy as he was. “How many you want?”

The man reached out and stroked a brilliant petal. “They’re  _ gorgeous _ ,” he murmured as if he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m just glad they didn’t wilt,” Jesse said, tugging gently at one of the leaves near his elbow. “Looks like you came by just in time.” Bundling them carefully into his hands, he lifted the cut ends out of the water and inspected them critically before fussing with the leaves and petals. Digging in his belt, he found the little clippers he kept on his person and snipped off a few leaves so that the blooms would sit better together in a neater bunch. “Do me a favor and hold this for me, will you?”

Surprised, the man obeyed and allowed Jesse to fuss over him as well to make sure he gripped the flowers properly. Satisfied, he ducked under the table in the back for the a ribbon (blue, he decided as soon as he saw it. The blue silk would look lovely) and the ribbon scissors, which he shoved in his belt.

“Are you the florist as well?” the man asked when he saw the supplies in Jesse’s hands.

Jesse chuckled as he measured out a length of ribbon. “Naw,” he said. “Could never manage a pretty enough bow. Talking, growing things, that’s more my thing.” He carefully began wrapping the flowers, his hands brushing against the man’s. Careful not to tug too hard, Jesse folded the ribbon into a bow that ended up crooked and lopsided.

The man’s dark brows rose toward his hairline. “I’m sure,” he said, flicking his dark eyes up at Jesse before looking back down at the flowers. “It is quite a hideous bow.”

Throwing his head back, Jesse laughed. “Hey, there, I promised nothing!” he said, wagging the handle of the scissors at the man before tucking it back into his pocket. “Told you I wasn’t a florist.”

“But these  _ are _ the prettiest I’ve seen,” the man added shyly. “How much for them?”

Jesse waved it off. “On the house,” he said. Seeing the man about to protest, Jesse held up a hand to stop him. “My ma loved sunflowers,” he explained. “The backyard was always full of them and she an’ I would sit under them and watch the clouds through the petals. When she died, my dad cut all of them down. Couldn’t bear to look at them. That’s about when I ran away from home but I scooped a bunch of the heads to save. The way I see it, I’m keepin’ something of her around with them, y’know? I keep a whole garden of them out back and I cut a few to bring to the stand. Just in case I meet someone like you off to visit  _ your _ ma.”

The man flushed and looked down, digging around in his pockets with one hand while the other cradled the flowers delicately. “No, I  _ can _ pay you,” he insisted.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jesse gently put a large hand on the man’s and he stilled. “Didn’t say you couldn’,” Jesse told him. “Just saying that I ain’t charging you.”

“They’re your mother’s flowers,” the man protested sharply, his brows nearly meeting over his dark eyes. “That you grow in your own garden.”

“Which is why I can’t rightfully charge,” Jesse said easily. “Ain’t fair for me to make money off my own thing outta Jack’s stand and it ain’t fair for Jack to make money off of something I do on the side.” He smiled. “Now if that’s all, you run along so you won’t be late to visit your ma.”

The man frowned deeply, staring up at Jesse searchingly. At last he conceded and offered a short bow. “ _ Arigatou _ ,” he said. “Thank you. She will love them.”

Unable to help himself, Jesse followed the man back to his car and stood a polite distance away while he carefully placed the sunflowers – and its messy ribbon – in the passenger’s seat before climbing in himself. The man offered him a shy, fleeting smile, before ducking in himself. When Jesse was about to turn away to return to his shaded chair, he heard the window roll down.

“Ah, one more thing,” the man said, poking his head out. Jesse could already hear the air blowing and he leaned down slightly. “Can you direct me to Watchpoint? I can’t seem to find it on the map. Or any address listed for it.”

Jesse chuckled. “No problem. It’s one of those buildings that has three addresses, y’know? Most people forget about it anyhow.” He pointed toward the road and the man craned his head to follow the finger. “You head down that road there and straight past the caution light. Then you’ll hit a little diner with an old Coke sign out front – like a vintage one, right? Ask Miss Angela for some of her sweet tea if you’re into that. If not, just ask her to have Rein fix that dang bow, it’s bothering me now.” They both paused to chuckle, the man ducking his head to hide a shy smile. “From there, keep driving that road and you’ll hit a fork where you’re gonna take a left. Watchpoint ain’t much to look at so you might think it’s abandoned but there’s no way you’re gonna miss it.”

The man frowned thoughtfully. “Straight through the caution light, a left at the fork, and I won’t miss it?”

“Yup,” Jesse replied, popping his lips on the  _ p _ . The man’s brows rose and Jesse gave him a disarming grin that had him flushing and looking down.

“And if I go right instead?” the man asked as Jesse began leaning back to let him go.

Jesse chuckled and flicked his hat up, propping his other fist on his hip. “Well a left’s gonna take you on to Watchpoint but a right’s gonna take you right on back to me.” He winked. “And I’ll be happy to give you directions all over again.”

The man ducked his head with another flush that traveled down his neck. “Thank you again,” he said.

Just to test his theory, he winked as the man shifted gears. Jesse caught the full-bodied flinch and the darkening blush as the man pulled out of his stall and began driving. Unlike Miss Gallagher, he was much more careful driving down the pitted road, easing his car around and over the potholes dug into the ground from the rain two weeks ago. Just in case he was looking, Jesse waved as he turned on his turned signal at the end of the drive and watched as he sped away down the road.

Sighing, he settled back down in his chair and leaned back, tipping his head back with his eyes closed. “Cool drink of water indeed,” he muttered to himself. Gone was the oppressive heat and the stifling humidity; now he felt lighter than air, half expecting to begin floating away at some point. “Whew. Damn.” Lifting his hat off, he sighed at the light breeze running cool fingers through his hair. “ _ God _ I hope he takes a right.”

He opened his eyes and shrieked at the silhouette standing over him. “Is that an ear of corn or are you just excited to see me?” Fareeha asked smugly, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding at his crotch.

With another yelp, Jesse instinctively slammed his hat down over his groin while she laughed.  “Cruel,” he told her, righting himself.

Fareeha snorted and dug around in his cooler for a bottle of water which she threw at Jesse’s head. “So,” she said as she dug one out for herself and folded into a crouch on the soft grass. Though it had been years since she had moved to the US with her mother from Egypt, Fareeha hadn’t lost much of her accent. She had admitted to Jesse once that it felt like the closer she was to another Egyptian, the harder it was to not fall back into her normal way of speech. “What’s gotten you all worked up?” She nodded pointedly at his crotch and he scowled at her, allowing his hat to rest there a little longer. 

“None of your business,” Jesse retorted, cracking open the water and downing half of it in a few desperate gulps. 

Throwing her head back, Fareeha laughed even as she nearly brained herself on the tire of his truck. “Aw, come on  _ herr-mann-o _ ,” she teased, deliberately mispronouncing the word. 

“You promised you’d never do that again,” Jesse said without heat, jabbing a finger at Fareeha. They had been trying to teach each other their native tongues: for Fareeha Arabic, for Jesse Spanish, and for Angela German. As the night wore on and they became more and more intoxicated, their ability to reproduce the necessary sounds for each language deteriorated until Angela insisted that  _ hermano _ was pronounced  _ herr-mann-o _ in her own native Swiss-German accent. 

It still made Jesse cringe to hear, even jokingly by Fareeha. 

“What’s gotten you into such a state?” Fareeha asked, squinting up at him.

Jesse sighed wistfully. “Nothing,” he said unconvincingly.

Peeking down, he saw her level him an unimpressed look. Not that he had  _ expected _ her to let him off the hook, but he had kind of hoped. “Yeah,” she said dryly. “Because I believe  _ that _ ,  _ hermano _ .”

The Spanish word sounded weird with her accent and would have made him laugh if his stomach hadn’t been twisting itself into knots. Riding the high of the handsome customer had been nice until he had been confronted by it. “It’s nothing, ‘Ree,” he said, using his childhood nickname for her. “I swear.”

Fareeha looked smug. “You only swear when it’s  _ not _ nothin’g,” she said, closing her mouth on the  _ g _ mockingly. “Out with it.” She turned her head slightly toward the driveway. “Did it have to do with the customer with the sports car?”

“Naw,” Jesse said and winced when he could hear the lie in his voice.

Smirking, Fareeha wiggled closer. “Come on,  _ hermano _ . Out with it.”

It didn’t take much for Fareeha to wheedle the whole thing out of him because she was the closest thing he had to a sister. He told her about the glitter of steel above that regal nose, the inky black hair tied in a topknot;  _ that undercut _ . By the time he began to run out of things to say, Fareeha was nearly breathless with laughter and Jesse had managed to work himself up something fierce.

“I should’ve chased after him,” Jesse lamented, ignoring that Fareeha now lay on the ground, recovering from her laughter. “What a fool!”

Fareeha snorted. “What’s new, cowboy?” she teased.

“Naw,” he insisted. “I probably scared the poor thing away.” He ran his fingers through his sweat-matted hair and groaned out loud, leaning back in his chair until it creaked. Thinking about those dark eyes and that shy smile, he felt something in his chest flutter. “Shoot, ‘Ree,” he said, the wind going out of his sails as he slumped down in his chair. “It could’ve been love.”

He jumped when Fareeha grabbed the hem of his jeans and tugged gently. “You fall too hard and too fast, cowboy,” she said seriously though a hint of a giggle was still behind her voice. He craned his head to look down at her and saw sympathy in her black eyes. “But I suppose that’s what we love most about you.”

Jesse smiled weakly down at her. “Shoot,” he said with a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair again. “I bet he never liked me anyhow.”

Groaning, Fareeha pushed herself up to her elbows and glared up at Jesse. “Wow,” she said. “You’ve got it  _ bad _ .”

Pressing the back of one arm to his eyes, Jesse groaned. Then he yelped as his eyes started burning from the sticky sheen of sweat and dust and tried to wipe the irritants away with the sleeve of his shirt. He yelped again when, ever helpful, Fareeha brushed away his hat, which had been valiantly trying to remain on his sweat-soaked head, and dumped the rest of her water over his face and chest.

Screeching, Jesse flailed and tipped backwards, falling with a great clash and clatter that had Fareeha once more rolling on the ground, laughing. When he righted himself, he poured the rest of his own water, unfortunately only a few mouthfuls left, over Fareeha’s face. He missed when she rolled and flung the empty plastic bottle at his face.

When they finally stopped laughing and the wet clothes and jeans became too uncomfortable, Fareeha sighed and propped herself up on her elbows to look at Jesse. Her black hair, cropped almost boyishly short, was messy, sticking up every which way with sweat and the little splashes of water Jesse had managed to catch her with. Blades of grass stuck out, pale green and gold and a smudge of dust turned to mud with their sweat and play.

“Thanks, ‘Ree,” he said quietly and she smiled. “I think I needed that.”

“No,” she retorted with a snort. “What you  _ need _ is a shower – a proper one, not from my water bottle.” She dipped her hand into the cooler and pulled out another, jabbing the top at him. “This is mine now, I’m on shift. Go inside, shower, and go get some lunch. Mom made a salad with those heirlooms out back – it’s to  _ die _ for, I promise.”

Jesse groaned and heaved himself to his feet. He made a show of lifting his arm and smelling his sweaty pit, making Fareeha gag playfully. “Whew, you’re right, I do stink.” Unsurprising. Probably, as mean Miss Gallagher had said, what had scared away the man with the undercut.

Among other things.

“Of course I’m right,” Fareeha said loftily. “Go! March, young man!” she said, mimicking her mother’s voice and imperious gesture.

Jesse laughed, stretching his arms over his head and reaching for his hat. “I’m getting, I’m getting,” he said. “And a shower  _ does _ sound nice.”

“Yes,” Fareeha shot back. “You  _ smell _ .” He rested his sweaty hat on his head, making a face when he felt the wet lining touch his skin. As he was about to step back out into the punishing summer sun, he felt Fareeha’s empty water bottle hit his back and he turned. She was standing, smiling softly as she was about to walk out the other side of the tent. Beyond her he could see that another customer had come up and their children were already spilling out of the car. “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back it’s yours.” Her grin turned wicked. “If it doesn’t…”

Shaking his head, Jesse couldn’t help but laugh. “If it doesn’t, hunt it down and kill it.”

It was their private, albeit morbid joke that had started with Fareeha’s mother, who served her mandatory conscription in her youth as a sniper. On occasion, Ana would go hunting with the owner of the farm, Jack, just to keep her skills sharp. When both of them had become “of dating age”, she had more than once offered (or threatened) to hunt down their SO’s for them if the need should arise.

The last year, for Mother’s Day, Jesse and Fareeha had gotten her a box full of things with the phrase. It was rather telling that it was that box, rather than the expensive flower seedlings and brunch, had been the thing to make the woman’s good eye stream with tears.

“Thanks Oats,” Jesse said with a tip of his hat. “I needed that.”

Behind him, Fareeha scoffed. “ _ Okht! Pendejo! _ ” Laughing, Jesse climbed the hill to the main house.

That night when Angela and Rein came over for dinner, they talked about a stranger with an undercut. He had poked his head into their little diner and asked them to fix a hideously-tied blue silk bow around a bunch of familiar red and gold sunflowers. As he waited nervously for Rein to fix the bow with his large but surprisingly delicate sausage-like fingers, he had shyly asked for a small cup of sweet tea on the recommendation of someone he had met recently.

Jesse carefully kept his head down while Fareeha continued to kick at his ankles under the table. “So I asked him, ‘what poor florist can’t tie a bow?’” Rein threw his great head back with a booming laugh. “And he said ‘poor something for sure, but a florist he was not!’” The table joined in with his infectious laughter.

“Then he tried a sip of the sweet tea,” Angela added. “I’m glad I insisted on just giving him a small cup instead of a proper glass, he looked like he was about to spit it out!” Though Angela was a devout coffee (or cocoa) drinker and still hadn’t quite gotten used to the locals’ fascination with sweet tea, everyone around still swore that she made the best they’d had – outside of their family, of course. “And he said, ‘poor taste as well!’”

Rein hummed around a large gulp of some unlabeled lager. He insisted that it was the best, better than the weak American swill he could find and always brewed his own from an old family recipe. Jesse, who had been given a case for his 21 st birthday, thought it was stronger than coffee and could likely be used to peel paint. “He said he was headed to Watchpoint.”

“Watchpoint?” Ana asked, surprised. She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and turned her head enough that she could bring Rein into her limited range of vision.

The smiles still on faces faded. Watchpoint was sometimes referred to as The End of the Line. Far more often than anyone wanted to admit the patients there tended to be on their last legs or had been essentially abandoned by their families. They all hoped that the stranger wasn’t going to visit for the first reason.

Conversation picked up again, but Jesse still didn’t look up from his plate and the dinner wasn’t quite as cheerful as it had been. 


	2. Dibs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Ma_ ,” he protested just to see her good eye water. Gently, so he didn’t knock her over, he nudged her with his hip. “Ain’t nothin’,” he protested.
> 
> Ana patted his arm with a damp hand before accepting the next plate he handed her. “Not _yet_ ,” she said smugly. “But just you wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everybody wants you  
> That ain’t no secret  
> Hey baby what’s your status?  
> And tell me are you try’nna keep it?  
> Well, they can all back off  
> Cause I know what I want  
> And while I’ve got your attention,  
> Did I mention:
> 
> If you got a kiss on your lips that you’re looking for somebody to take,  
> If you got a heart that ain’t afraid to love, ain’t afraid to break,  
> If you’ve got a Friday night free and a shotgun seat,  
> Well I’m just saying, I ain’t got nowhere to be  
>  **So baby I’ll take whatever it is you’ve got to give**  
>  Yeah,
> 
> I’m calling dibs.  
> ~ _Dibs_ by Kelsea Ballerini

 

 

The next weekend, Jesse was hauling crates of sweet corn with Fareeha when a dark blue sports car pulled up. “Is that your man?” Fareeha had asked, nudging Jesse with her elbow as he fussed with the ears of corn. “Sports car, you said?”

Jesse looked up, shading his eyes because the  _ last _ time he wore sunglasses to the stand, he had promptly lost them, later finding them ground into the mud and gravel of the small parking lot by feet and tires. He squinted through the bright summer light and grinned when he saw the car Fareeha was talking about.

“That’s him,” he confirmed. “Shoot, I’m getting all jelly-legged.”

Fareeha sighed. “Looks like I won’t be going hunting after all. Mother will be disappointed.” She ignored the glare Jesse shot her and waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with your precious ears. You go ahead and fawn over your lover boy.”

As he passed the crate of tomatoes ready to be stocked, he found the one he had spotted that had split open while they were driving it down and flung it Fareeha, nailing her in the hip. The tomato exploded seeds and soft red-orange flesh all over her shorts and leg while she shrieked in outrage.

“ _ Ingrate! _ ” she howled after him as laughing, he approached the car. There stood the man of his dreams…and another whose arms were crossed easily across his chest with a big grin stretching across his face.

The newcomer was marginally taller, almost of a height with Jesse himself and of all things had a shock of bright green hair that stuck up every which way. Unlike the man Jesse had first met, he wore a tight tank top that revealed his  _ very well built _ arms - the kind that if Jesse had been a lesser man, would have made him question his masculinity. Both arms were heavily tattooed - the left bearing an intricate mandala sleeve, the right with some kind of Asian dragon in green and orange trailing down his shoulder to his wrist. In comparison to the other man, the man Jesse called Undercut (and getting his name was one of his goals for the day) was once more dressed immaculately in a long button-down and slacks. 

“Howdy!” he said for lack of anything else to say, glancing between the two. The newcomer looked like he was about to burst into laughter at some hidden joke while a blush bloomed across Undercut’s face. “Back for more flowers? Or do you have something else in mind today?”

“Fruit for me,” the new man said with an accent that matched Undercut’s. “That’s my appointed job. But apparently it was decided that my brother has such a discerning eye for flowers so he should get the next batch.”

Undercut glared like an offended cat, his blush darkening; his brother looked completely unruffled. “Sure thing,” Jesse said hesitantly. “More sunflowers for your mother?”

The brother’s grin grew and Undercut scowled. “Something like that,” the brother said, looking entirely too pleased. He shoved his hand out into the space between them. “I’m Genji.”

Well, this he could handle. “Call me Jesse,” he said. “And you?” Jesse asked Undercut, biting off the ‘darlin’ he instinctively wanted to add. From the too-gleeful look on Genji’s face and the pained one on Undercut’s, they caught it (or something like it) anyway.

“Hanzo,” the man bit grudgingly.

Taking the hint, Jesse turned to Genji. “What kind of fruits are you looking for? We’re running a little late this morning so we’re still unloading some of the produce but if you’re looking for something in particular ‘Ree or I could drive back and see if we can find you some.” He waved vaguely over his shoulder toward Fareeha, who continued to unpack. From the widening of Genji’s eyes, he’d bet that she had lifted one of the pallets they had been loading with a strength that didn’t seem possible for her frame. She wasn’t  _ small  _ by any means, but her muscles were lean rather than bulky.

“Ree, did you call her?” he asked, rolling his  _ r _ so that it almost sounded like “Dee”.

“Yup,” Jesse said, popping his lips on the  _ p _ . Genji continued to stare at Fareeha; Hanzo watched Jesse, looking amused. Jesse shot him a quick wink and turned as the man blushed. “She’ll probably appreciate the help with the pallets since I’m apparently going to be working as a florist once more.”

Genji didn’t seem to hear though he did walk – quickly but rather mindlessly – toward the produce portion of Jack’s growing stand.

“She looks like she could crush his head between her knees,” Hanzo muttered.

Jesse snorted. “Don’t worry, she won’t,” he said with another wink. “Maybe not  _ too  _ much. C’mon, let’s take a look at the flowers. They’re on the truck this time.” Hanzo followed him after a beat, his nice shoes crunching on the gravel. “I didn’t bring any of my ma’s blooms today,” he said apologetically. “But the strains Ana’s sacrificed today are quite pretty.”

“I did not want them,” Hanzo said stiffly and suddenly his footsteps stopped. Surprised, Jesse turned around when Hanzo’s voice began to raise nervously. “I mean, that is not what I had intended. This time. It is not that they were not gorgeous – and my – our – mother loved them very much. But I did not want to bring more of them to Watchpoint – not that I did not  _ want _ to, or that anyone but our mother would enjoy the flowers but-”

Watching the man get steadily redder, Jesse held his hands up and Hanzo snapped his mouth shut. “Whoa there,” he said slowly.

“I am  _ not _ one of your horses, cowboy,” the man snapped, his face nearly glowing red with embarrassment.

“Never said that, darlin’,” Jesse replied. “Don’t got none anyway,” he added. “Hate the things. Long faces, long ears, long legs…” he winked lewdly at Hanzo. “Long dick. Don’t trust those suckers.”

Hanzo recoiled, his face lighting up brighter than the tomato he had flung at Fareeha. “Long dicks or horses in general?” the man asked but by the quick blink and his quick shift of his weight from his toes to heels, Hanzo hadn’t meant to say that. He looked pained while Jesse threw his head back and roared with laughter.

“Way I see it,” Jesse said, leading the way to the truck and hauling himself up to the flat bed. He leaned down and offered a hand to Hanzo who blushed again. He winked just because he could and watched that tempting flush race a drop of sweat down his neck. After a moment of hesitation, Hanzo took his hand and let Jesse haul him up into the bed. “It just matters how you use it.” He smirked lewdly and walked along the bed to the sunflowers clustered in the back. “Now, what’re you looking for and how much of it?”

The truck wiggled as Jesse pulled apart the buckets of flowers, grouping them in clusters by size and color for Hanzo’s perusal. He poked his head over and grinned when he saw that Fareeha had indeed put Genji to work hauling pallets. Holding back a laugh, he turned back to Hanzo.

Seeing how red Hanzo was, Jesse was almost afraid that he would faint. “You okay there, sweetpea?”

Hanzo gulped and then his gaze dropped to where he was wringing his hands nervously. There was a dragon-shaped ring around his thumb with dark green stones for eyes and faded enamel still stuck in the grooves of scales that he spun between trying to pull his fingers apart. “Ten dozen.”

Surprised, Jesse rocked back on his heels, feeling his skin drag against the sweat-slimy lining of his hat as his brows rose. He whistled when Hanzo still wouldn’t look at him. “Gonna clear me out there, darlin’,” he said with a laugh. “Guess you can’t be too picky now, with that many.” He eyed the blooms around him. “Still, you go on ahead and make your choices and I’ll see about getting you packed up.”

“Maybe not tie bows?” Hanzo suggested haltingly, still not quite looking at Jesse. “It came out terrible last time.”

Jesse barked a laugh as he pulled out the clippers in his belt. “I heard you got Rein to help you.” he pointed his clippers at Hanzo with a wink. “No worries, pumpkin, I got other skills than tying bows.” Hanzo let out a strangled sound.

“My mother loved the flowers,” Hanzo blurted and Jesse blinked up at him in surprise. The man flushed red again and looked away. “She wouldn’t stop touching them – I had to take one out of the vase for her to keep next to her.” Jesse smiled, pleased, as Hanzo continued. “She says that…when…she gets discharged, she wants to meet you.”

Jesse could divine a hundred possible meanings in the awkward pauses.  _ We don’t know if she’ll make it out.  _ I _ don’t know if she’ll make it out. I don’t even know if she’s still alive _ . But it wasn’t his place to ask too much more so he didn’t. 

“Mighty nice of you,” Jesse said instead with an easy smile. “You getting ten dozen sunflowers for her?”

Hanzo’s dark eyes flashed up and then away as he rifled through the nearest bucket of sunflowers. They were all in shades of pastel pink with the faintest hints of pale yellow at the very tips of their pointed petals. Though Ana detested the color, even she had to admit that their sun-bleached appearance was somehow appealing.

“No,” Hanzo said, continuing to fuss with the flowers. Jesse waited him out, still unsure  _ which _ ten dozen of the sunflowers he wanted. Seeming to realize this, Hanzo shoved the 5-gallon bucket in front of him toward Jesse. “All of these, please,” he added. “There are twenty-five,” he added. “Maybe have one bunch have thirteen instead of a dozen?”

“A baker’s dozen,” Jesse agreed and pulled a small skein of twine from his belt. “Since I’m not allowed to tie pretty bows,” he said with a wink. Even though Hanzo still wasn’t quite looking at him, his blush darkened. “I’ll give you some ribbon, too so you or your brother – or Rein – can help you make them all pretty.”

Hanzo mumbled something and went back to fussing with the next bucket of flowers. They were smaller with bright yellow petals and little black faces. Ana had the most of them in her portion of the yard – she found their simplicity appealing and liked that they didn’t grow nearly as large as some of the other breeds she’s encountered.

“Our mother didn’t want to hoard all of the flowers,” Hanzo explained. “She asked us to spread it over the whole floor to brighten everyone’s day.”

Thinking about Watchpoint and its brick, fortress-like walls, Jesse nodded. It looked like an old-style castle or a sanatorium from a horror movie where it sat at the crest of a rolling green hill, wrapped in tall wrought-iron fences to keep patients from escaping into the nearby wilderness. The windows were tall, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling but having been built in an era long gone, they had been fitted with heavy iron panes and bars to keep patients – among other “guests” – in and the world out.

Even in modern times, Watchpoint hadn’t improved much. It was a long, drawn-out battle to upgrade all of the rooms. The work was made more difficult with its hesitant listing as a historic building. As it stood, the Watchpoint was barely considered safe for use as a recovery ward.

To be fair, though, Watchpoint wasn’t a true “hospital” but more of a strange combination of modern-day sanatorium, old-folk’s home, and a recovery clinic. It was staffed with certified nurses and doctors, but aside from emergencies, no operations were done. By the time you reached Watchpoint, you were recovering or not actively undergoing treatment that was required to take place in a hospital.

If you stayed at Watchpoint, there was a high probability that you were only leaving in a body bag.

Jesse didn’t say any of this as he carefully trimmed the leaves of the sunflowers and bound them with twine in a simple bow (crooked once more) to hold the clusters together.

“Awful nice of you; it’s such a dreary place there,” Jesse said, trimming the next bunch. “If you don’t mind my asking…how are you planning on getting the things there?”

From Hanzo’s suddenly rigid crouch, he hadn’t thought of it. “They won’t fit in my car,” he said, more a statement than a question. “And Genji didn’t drive today.”

Poking his head over the wooden slats that lined the flatbed, Jesse squinted at the car. It was nice even if it was covered with dust from the unpaved road of the little produce stand. Still, it would hardly hold  _ two _ of the buckets Jesse had a mind to send Hanzo with, never mind enough to hold his entire order.  _ And  _ whatever Genji seemed to be getting, if the growing pile of baskets at his feet were any indication.

“Shoot,” Jesse said, leaning back on his haunches and finishing the last twist of twine around the second bunch. He tied a quick knot by feel and grinned at Hanzo. “I’ll just have ‘Ree watch the stand while I run out with you. We can load the back of my pickup with your flowers and whatever your brother’s decided to clean out, there.”

Hanzo poked his head over the edge of the truck and scowled. Though Jesse didn’t ask, Hanzo explained, “Mother asked us to pick up fruits since everything there is canned. She will probably ask us to share whatever we brought her.”

“Like her flowers,” Jesse finished and Hanzo nodded, pushing another bucket toward Jesse. Without prompting, Jesse began trimming those too.

“There are twenty-four in that bucket,” Hanzo said helpfully. “All of those, please.”

Jesse winked at him and began separating the flowers. “I don’t know what’ll happen when we run out,” he told Hanzo cheerfully. “When the season’s over,” he clarified. “Hopefully your mother’ll be out by then.”

The other man hummed. “She will probably send us back with flowers regardless,” he said absently, counting out flowers in another bucket. He accepted the spare clippers Jesse offered him, blushing when their fingers brushed. When he began trimming back the flowers in his bucket, his hands were sure and efficient and Jesse had to tear his eyes away to keep from staring.

“Well, I’ll plant a few more seeds, see if I can’t get a few more going,” Jesse said. “But eventually we’re gonna be runnin’ out of sunflowers.”

Hanzo looked pained, pausing for a few seconds before continuing. “I suppose any flowers would be sufficient,” he murmured.

Leaning over, Jesse nudged the bucket he was working on to get the other man’s attention. “We don’t do much flowers,” he said apologetically. “But I tell you what, darlin’, when Ana turns over her garden, I’ll tell her to plant a whole lot extra just for you. And when the last of my sunflowers are gone, I’ll plant you something nice. How’s that?”

Surprised, Hanzo looked up at him. “No,” he said bashfully, once more blushing. “There is no need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Jesse chuckled, evidently startling Hanzo into looking up again. “Darlin’,” Jesse said with feeling as the blush spread down Hanzo’s tempting neck. “I’d bring you the moon if it’d make you smile.”

The man looked down again but not before Jesse could see the slightest curl of a shy smile on his lips. “ _ Arigatou _ ,” Hanzo whispered and Jesse counted that as a victory.

 

* * *

 

Genji was elated to find that Jesse would be carrying their truly appalling amount of produce and flowers and to thank him, offered to buy him lunch at Angela’s little diner. The glare Jesse could feel from Fareeha on the back of his head had him politely declining sitting down for lunch with them. He assured them both quickly that if they wanted the flowers and produce at a certain time or to delay Jesse’s impromptu delivery to allow them to eat before they wandered through Watchpoint’s depressing gates.

“ _ Damn _ ,” Fareeha said as the brothers drove away, leaving behind pallets full of assorted berries, grapefruit, and Jack’s particular breed of sweet corn. “You’re thirsty.”

Jesse squawked in outrage as he turned to stare at Fareeha. “ _ ’Ree _ ,” he protested, his hand reflexively shooting up to the wadded-up napkin with Hanzo’s number. It was burning a hole in his pocket but at the same time he was worried that if he didn’t keep his hand on it, it would fly away and disappear. 

Fareeha’s arms were crossed over her chest and the dried remains of the tomato still clung stubbornly to the hems of her shorts. She was sweatier than Jesse, having still been hauling pallets of produce while Jesse had been playing florist and flirting with Hanzo. “ _ Thirsty _ ,” she insisted. “ _ And _ you’re going to owe me  _ big _ for leaving me alone here while you go gallivanting, making deliveries. What if mean Miss Gallagher finds out?”

It was a valid fear but Jesse could not be brought down. “Let her,” he said. “It won’t be  _ me. _ ”

“You instigated it,” Fareeha replied with a smug smile. “ _ You’d _ deal with it.”

Even that thought couldn’t quite wipe the dopey grin off his face.  _ An hour _ , Hanzo had said.  _ Two _ , Genji had insisted. They had compromised on an hour and a half, so long as Jesse called ahead of time so they could meet him at the doors or at least in the parking lot of the diner so they could drive as a caravan to Watchpoint.

“I won’t forget this,” Fareeha promised him but her black eyes were smug. Jesse ignored it, reaching up to press his hand against his pocket. “You look like an idiot,” she said though her voice nothing but fond.

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed absently. “I know, Oats.”

He shrieked outright when Fareeha whipped his hat off and smashed the remains of the tomato he had thrown at her earlier, warmed by the hot sun to something approaching body temperature, over his shaggy hair and the back of his neck.

When he showed up to meet the brothers with their “delivery” at Angela’s diner in new clothes and wet, humid hair, he had to explain to them ( _ and _ Rein and Angela who had already received the video of Fareeha’s betrayal) that it had been mutiny and revenge.

Hanzo’s shy smile, hidden quickly behind his hand as he ducked his head toward his brother, made it all almost worth it. Any residual reluctance disappeared like fog in the sun when Hanzo brushed against his arm while they unloaded his truck at the doors to Watchpoint.

 

* * *

 

Jesse did not get to meet their mother, but as a “tip” for his efforts in delivering the flowers and produce, Hanzo handed him a large bag of packed food from Rein and Angela’s diner that he could take back and share with Fareeha. When he got back to the stand and saw the other woman sulking in his usual spot, Jesse risked his life to send a picture of her before and after he handed her the food to Hanzo, hoping it wouldn’t seem too presumptuous.

When Hanzo replied three hours later, it was with a long-winded apology that he hadn’t dared to take out his phone when he was visiting his mother…and that he hoped that Fareeha hadn’t hurt him too badly.

Dinner that night was spent teasing Jesse. Fareeha’s video and his banshee-like shriek had been shared by everyone by then and to commemorate it, Ana had changed the dinner menu to include her famous tomato salad and a truly massive pot of spaghetti and meatballs.

Fareeha had reenacted his “lovesick look” as he chased after Hanzo to everyone’s laughter and had teased that she had caught him on his phone far more often than usual.  _ You’re a simple man, Jess _ , she had teased, digging an elbow in his ribs when he made a token protest.  _ These high-tech gadgets don’t appeal much to you _ .

He hid his phone quickly when he saw Hanzo’s name flash across the screen but by her smug look, she had already seen it. She graciously didn’t mention it and for the rest of dinner, he made an effort to correctly pronounce  _ sister _ . Ana’s pleased smile and the softening of the hard lines drawn around her good eye made him blush and look away.

When he joined the little woman in the kitchen to help clean, she nudged him gently in the side. “Invite them over sometime,” she whispered to him so that the water hid her words from everyone but him.

Jesse ducked his head as he scrubbed the plate in his hand. “Naw,” he whispered back. “Y’all’ll just scare him. Genji’d love y’all, but Han’s a little shy.”

“Then we’ll sit him in a corner next to you,” Ana replied, drying the plate he handed her. “You can be a buffer. But do invite them – if not for dinner, then maybe lunch when it’s quieter and not everyone’s here.” She nudged his elbow gently. “If he’s uncomfortable, then he’ll turn it down. He knows his boundaries better than you do.” When he glanced at her, she smiled serenely. “Let me have my fun, Jesse. I just want to spoil you.”

“ _ Ma _ ,” he protested just to see her good eye water. Gently, so he didn’t knock her over, he nudged her with his hip. “Ain’t nothin’,” he protested.

Ana patted his arm with a damp hand before accepting the next plate he handed her. “Not  _ yet _ ,” she said smugly. “But just you wait.”


	3. Stuck Like Glue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Certainly not,” Jesse agreed, slapping his hat back on his head. “Now you see my pain, babycakes.”
> 
> Hanzo ducked his head shyly. “It would be a tragedy,” he said. “I have come to enjoy your company.”
> 
> Jesse thought his grin would split his face in half. “Shoot, darlin’,” Jesse said, a hand over his heart. “Don’t say things like that.” He waited until Hanzo flashed his dark eyes, wide and scared that he had overstepped a boundary, up to Jesse’s face. “You’ll break my poor fool heart.”
> 
> “Such a fool,” Hanzo said after a moment while his face shifted through a series of dizzying emotions: mortification, relief, annoyance. His face was schooled into something haughty but his eyes were soft with what Jesse hoped was relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **There you go making my heart beat again  
> **  
>  Heart beat again, heart beat again,  
> There you go making me feel like a kid  
> Won’t you do it and do it one time,  
> There you go pulling me right back in,  
> Right back in, right back in,  
> And I know I’m never letting this go.
> 
> I’m stuck on you  
> Whoa-oh, whoa-oh  
> Stuck like glue  
> You and me baby,  
> We’re stuck like glue  
> ~ _Stuck Like Glue_ by Sugarland

 

It seemed that the both of them worked odd hours so their texts back and forth were mostly in the early morning or late evening. Hanzo admitted that Watchpoint had so loved the produce and he and Genji had been duped into cooking a huge feast for the residents. He added that he was afraid that Genji would want to do it again next week – it would be good for everyone else, he mused, but rather difficult to continue indefinitely.

And while his mother loved the “baker’s dozen” of the pastel sunflowers, she still held onto the red and gold one from Jesse’s ma, even if it was far past drooping.

On Thursday morning, Jesse walked out before breakfast to his private garden area and took a picture of the sunflowers there for Hanzo. He promised that he would ask Angela to get her camera when she came back after work so he could take better ones. Hanzo and Genji could have it professionally printed to hang in her room.

_ Arigatou _ , Hanzo sent back almost immediately.  _ That would mean a lot to us. _

On a whim, he walked to Ana’s “garden”, a space larger than most houses, to take a few pictures of her flowers for Hanzo as well.  _ Because your ma likes to share, I ca n tak some of these for you _ .

Hanzo sent back an emoji of a sigh.  _ Thank you. _

A moment later, he sent a picture and Jesse bit his knuckle to keep from laughing out loud. It was a little terra cotta pot, no larger than his fist, bearing the saddest succulent Jesse had ever seen.  _ They insisted Genji couldn’t kill a cactus _ .

When he showed the picture to Ana before breakfast, she laughed outright.  _ Bring it over sometime _ , Jesse texted back.  _ Ana says she’ll resuscitate it for you _ .

_ Don’t _ , Hanzo said almost immediately.  _ Genji will just kill it again.  _ The text was followed by three skull emojis.

Early that Saturday morning, just after he and Jack had left breakfast to stock the produce stand, he got a text from Hanzo. The little pot was tucked in his hand, one piece of the sad succulent hanging limply over a finger.  _ Consider it liberated _ .

_ Viva la liberte! _ Jesse responded as Jack rolled his eyes. He noticed too late that his phone had autocorrected it to  _ vibe lay liberte _ and hoped Hanzo didn't think too much of it.

“You delivering to Watchpoint again?” Jack asked hours later as he got ready to hike back to the main house.

Jesse shrugged. “’Ree’s not here to cover me,” he pointed out. “But I might give them my truck.”

Jack’s white brows rose. Being in the sun, his skin had always been ruddy and Jesse had always found it funny that he had never tanned; only burned. His hair had always been light for as long as Jesse had known him, nearly as light as corn silk until he had begun graying at an early age. Even then it had seemed almost instantaneous: one day his hair was pale gold, the next it was nearly white. Still, it made him look distinguished, even with his odd scars.

“You barely know him and you’re gonna let him borrow your truck,” Jack said and shook his head. “No,” he decided. “I’ll ask Ana if she’ll cover for you - or maybe Zarya. You just give one of us a call.” He wagged a finger at him. “And invite them up for lunch while you’re at it. I promise I’ll try to keep Ana from showing off your baby pictures.”

Jesse was about to yell something vulgar when he saw mean Miss Gallagher’s truck turn down the driveway. “Better start running, old man!” he yelled. “Or Mean Miss Gallagher’s gonna eat your nards!”

Without turning, Jack started sprinting up the road. There were a lot of things that Miss Gallagher hated and at the top of the list were Jack and Jesse, though for drastically different reasons. She thought that Jesse was a good-for-nothing punk hooligan that ran too wild; no one was really sure why she hated Jack, not even the man himself. Still, Miss Gallagher’s tongue was sharper than a sword and Jesse didn’t blame Jack for running. 

Jesse was dismayed to see as he was in the middle of helping mean Miss Gallagher that Hanzo had pulled into the small parking lot. He tried not to rush the snobbish woman as he knew that if she picked up on it she would become even more fractious.

Thankfully Ana, who had probably been spying on them from the main house, came down to help and deftly took mean Miss Gallagher off his hands. She shooed him toward Hanzo’s car and he shot her a pained look. If she blinked or winked he couldn’t tell with her eye patch firmly in place but he thought it was the latter.

Mean Miss Gallagher much preferred the touch of a woman, even an old, leathery sand flea like Ana, which she made very clear.

In those words exactly.

Jesse shook his head to himself as he walked over to Hanzo’s car just as the door opened. His mouth went a little dry when he saw that for once Hanzo seemed to be dressed for the weather in a tank top and shorts.

Even though Jesse had been sure that Hanzo was  _ built _ before, seeing those rippling muscles combined with his nose piercing and undercut did things to him. He took off his hat and fanned himself. “Hot  _ damn _ , darlin’,” Jesse said.

Hanzo flushed all the way down to the points of his shoulders and self-consciously crossed his arms across his chest. It made the bulging muscles of his pecs and biceps flex and pop and brought Jesse’s attention to the tattoos on Hanzo’s arms. One arm was occupied by a brilliant blue and gold dragon twisting and twining around his left arm from chest to wrist; the other had a long kitchen knife with a long garland of herbs wrapped around it. Further up his right arm, spilling into his back, was an overflowing abundance of vegetables. 

Jesse hoped he wasn’t drooling.

“Apologies,” Hanzo said without looking at Jesse. He tucked his arms behind his back as if to hide. “It was…quite warm this morning.”

It wasn’t even noon yet and the sun was already baking the world. And Jesse didn’t have the heart to even tease him that it had been much hotter in previous weeks when Hanzo had shown up dressed in long-sleeved button-down shirts and slacks.

“ _ Darlin _ ’,” Jesse said with feeling. “You ain’t gonna see  _ me  _ complain. Would be something wrong with me if I did when I got myself a literal angel in front of me.”

Hanzo’s blush spread and he bit his lower lip, peering up at Jesse from beneath his lashes. “Genji will be by later to pick up the produce,” he said shyly. “We can’t always ask you to drop everything for us.”

“Shoot darlin’,” Jesse said with a laugh. “Jack and Ana have already approved me to be your delivery boy. But don’t tell Miss Gallagher,” Jesse added, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Or she’ll have me hoppin’ to it.”

Jesse watched his dark eyes flick over his shoulders. He could hear Miss Gallagher’s voice rise in volume and pitch while Ana’s remained level and polite. They all knew that Miss Gallagher hated a spoiled fight above all else – that was why it was either Jesse or Ana that had the morning shift to deal with her. Fareeha or Gabe, those rare days he was working the stand, would only give her a fight and there was no way Jack would face her after the last time she had sharpened her tongue on him.

“A tragedy,” Hanzo said. “One that I’m sure would deprive me of your company.”

Biting his knuckle, Jesse bit back a laugh so they would remain out of Miss Gallagher’s attention. “Sure would,” he said. “And your delivery would be late.”

“Because you couldn’t ignore such a lady,” Hanzo said, blushing. A wicked glint shone in his near-black eyes.

“Certainly not,” Jesse agreed, slapping his hat back on his head.  “Now you see my pain, babycakes.”

Hanzo ducked his head shyly. “It would be a tragedy,” he said. “I have come to enjoy your company.”

Jesse thought his grin would split his face in half. “Shoot, darlin’,” Jesse said, a hand over his heart. “Don’t say things like that.” He waited until Hanzo flashed his dark eyes, wide and scared that he had overstepped a boundary, up to Jesse’s face. “You’ll break my poor fool heart.”

“Such a fool,” Hanzo said after a moment while his face shifted through a series of dizzying emotions: mortification, relief, annoyance. His face was schooled into something haughty but his eyes were soft with what Jesse hoped was relief.

They stood there for a bit, just smiling at each other, until Jesse remembered where they were and gestured toward the stand. “Well,” he said. “What can I do for ya, darlin’?”

“Ah,” Hanzo said hesitantly. “Flowers, of course, but I suppose I’m in charge of getting the produce as well today.”

Jesse smiled and propped his fists on his hips. “Genji didn’t wanna wake up?”

“Something like that,” Hanzo agreed. “Oh!” He ducked into the car and pulled out the sad little succulent he had sent pictures of. In person it was even sadder, what should have been fat green leaves turned chalky, flat, and limp.

“ _ Habibi _ ,” Ana called from the stand. “ _ U’dhurni _ , but do you think you could help an old woman carry her groceries?”

Jesse and Hanzo both ducked their heads to hide grins - it was clear that Ana was not talking about herself. “Yeah,” Jesse called back, winking and tipping his hat at Hanzo. “One moment, darlin’, if you please.” Between he and Ana, shadowed by a silently fuming Miss Gallagher, the two milk crates of produce were loaded quickly. The woman once more rattled down the road.

“Jack should really fix that,” Ana said to no one in particular, fussing with the scarf around her neck. Jesse could never understand how she managed to deal with the heat while wearing it all year round, but she never seemed to have an issue. Sometimes he sweated just  _ looking _ at her. “I will tell him tonight.”

Turning, he found Hanzo shyly wandering over. “Hey Ana, what d’ya think about the saddest little succulent I’ve ever damn seen?”

Jesse moved to stand beside Hanzo, nudging his shoulder encouragingly when he flushed under Ana’s sharp gaze. She had the terrifying ability to channel the intense gaze of two eyes into one, marked with a black tattoo. “The lady at the store said that it was impossible to kill a cactus,” Hanzo said shyly without quite looking at Ana’s face. “Genji took it as a challenge even if he hadn’t really  _ wanted _ to kill it.”

“Ah,” Ana said and held out her cupped hands. “In Jesse’s picture it almost looked like aloe vera,” she murmured as Hanzo handed the pot over. “But it’s  _ Haworthia attenuate _ – commonly called the zebra haworthia.” She peered up at Hanzo with her good eye, cocking her head to the side like a curious bird. “I’d say…give me two weeks to be safe. I will have it revived and in good spirits by then. If it is sooner, I will have Jesse text you.”

Hanzo shook his head. “No,” he insisted. “My brother will not much miss it and I would not feel right if I bring it back for him to kill it again.”

The man shifted nervously under Ana’s sharp gaze. Jesse found himself holding his breath. “I can understand that,” she said, looking down at the succulent in her hands. “Well, you are always free to visit it here if you have any emotional connection to it. I will keep it in my garden and have Jesse send you and your brother updates.” She nodded at Jesse as she turned to place it in “his” spot on the grass beside the stand. “When you go up to the house for lunch, you can take it with you. Put it in the garden window for now.”

“Yes, ma,” Jesse said and Ana wrinkled her nose at him. He thought she winked at him but it could very well have been a blink; it was hard to tell when she only had one visible eye. “Now let’s get  _ you _ settled, Han,” he said with a wink for the man beside him. Ana waved and moved to the flowers in their buckets, carefully trimming the roses of their thorns. 

He was grateful that Hanzo didn’t ask about his slip with Ana, though Jesse could see the gears turning in the man’s head. But once they ducked into the stand, that was thrown to the back-burner.  

It turned out that Hanzo was exacting and demanded nothing short of perfection. That being said, he also seemed to understand produce in that he wasn’t expecting perfect cookie-cutter food to come out of Jack’s produce stand. Jesse followed him helplessly, shifting crates and pallets for Hanzo, lifting out those that passed inspection and replacing those that hadn’t.

Not that Jesse didn’t enjoy it; no, far from it! He got to see another side of the shy man, one that was so sharply focused that the entire world seemed to cease to exist. Nothing escaped Hanzo’s keen eye – bruises, discoloration, jagged scars, on the skins of the produce in his hands were all catalogued and weighed against the piece as a whole.

“I love a man that loves food,” Jesse said before he could stop himself and Hanzo startled, dropping the ear of corn in his hands. It landed innocently among its peers and Jesse tried not to laugh. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said when the man’s dark eyes flashed to him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Hanzo looked down, a blush rising up the back of his neck. “I apologize,” he said. “I seemed to have forgotten you were here.”

“I can be loud,” Jesse said with a warm chuckle. “But I know better than to interrupt someone’s focus.”

“Do you?” Hanzo asked, his chin lifting challengingly. Something Jesse didn’t yet want to name glittered in his dark eyes, made darker by the shade of the stand. “It seems not since you interrupted mine.”

Jesse flicked his hat with a thumb and forefinger. They were out of eyesight of Ana but he didn’t doubt she could hear their voices if not the words they said despite the distance and the buffer of the majority of the space of the stand between them. Ana was freaky like that. His next words were quieter in case she  _ could _ hear them, made huskier by his attempts to keep her from teasing him later.

“Shoot, looks like you’re right, pumpkin.” He held out both fists, wrists up, to Hanzo and smirked. “You gonna punish me?”

He shivered when Hanzo turned to face him and lifted both hands. The other man looped his fingers over the soft skin of Jesse’s wrist, the very tips of his fingers rested against his pulse as his thumb brushed the side of his hand. “Something like that,” Hanzo murmured, his dark eyes sharp.

Jesse gulped, the gentle brush of Hanzo’s hands – calloused and scarred and didn’t he want to chase those tiny little nicks and bumps and hear the story behind each and every one – sending sparks shooting up his arms. He clenched his jaw against a whimper like a touch-starved mongrel but the flush across Hanzo’s face and the flicker in his dark eyes told Jesse he knew.

They both jumped apart at the sound of tires on gravel. Hanzo busied himself with the corn again while Jesse turned, trying to hide the sour hint of disappointment on his tongue. Peering out, Jesse sighed when he saw Genji hop out of the truck.

Of  _ course _ it would be Genji.

To his credit, Genji seemed to understand that he interrupted something when he walked up to them and murmured quietly to his brother in a language Jesse didn’t understand – possibly Japanese. Hanzo shook his head, jaw tight, and Genji sighed, looking helplessly at Jesse.

Shaking his own head, Jesse was about to say something when he heard the farm truck rattle down the road from the main house. Frowning, Jesse poked his head out of the stand and blinked as Jack shifted it into park. It was the big flatbed that they used for their larger events and the hay rides in the fall but at the moment looked like it had been recently liberated from some kind of tropical jungle.

“ _ Habibi _ ,” Ana called and with a polite nod at the brothers, Jesse wandered to the door, warily eyeing the truck. He didn’t remember any large deliveries or of any fairs scheduled. Usually he was assigned to things like that while Ana covered the small stand in his absence.

He nudged her gently with his elbow as he made it to the door. “What’s up?” he asked quietly. Behind him, he could hear the brothers begin to bicker quietly in Japanese.

Ana smiled up at him too-innocently and Jesse felt a stirring of fear. When Jack opened the door to the truck, Jesse could hear the angry Spanish swearing from the cab and he bit back a grin despite himself. Gabe wasn’t the most personable and that was that.

“ _ Pendejo! _ ” Jesse could hear Gabe roar. Whatever else he said was cut off as Jack vindictively closed the driver’s side door.

“We got a show?” Jesse asked and yelped when Ana pinched his elbow, hard.

“No,  _ habibi _ ,” she said in that overly-patient way she got when she thought he was being particularly dense. “This is another delivery to Watchpoint.”

Jesse eyed the truck, peering out into the beating sun to look at the rest of it. He could see some of Ana’s shrubs from her garden, and a few trellises with crawling vines tucked near the back. There was also one of her prized rosebushes, red and pink-striped bud peeking out from between the dark emerald leaves.

Aside from Ana’s plants, Jesse recognized the rows of plants Jack typically sold during the larger summer fairs and in the occasions he turned a large portion of his stand into a sort of greenhouse as he replenished his “stock” of produce.

“I have more stuff to load in your truck and you need to pick up some of it from Hog after lunch,” Jack said gruffly as he approached. He and Ana exchanged nods and the older woman climbed nimbly up the truck to inspect how her precious plants were secured. Jesse could just see the top of Gabe’s head on the other side of the explosion of greenery. “Gabe and I will be leaving ahead of you. The grounds are in quite a sorry state.” There was something wicked in his pale blue eyes.

Jesse crossed his arms across his chest. “Okay,” he said, keeping his voice low. “What is this about?”

From the truck, Ana began yelling at Gabe in Arabic; the other man cussed her out in Spanish. It was a part of their odd relationship and Jesse had never figured out if they could understand each other but perhaps annoyance and wild gesticulations were almost universal.

“Your boys there,” Jack said just as quietly. “And Angie as well. I don’t know  _ his _ story, but you know Angie volunteers at Watchpoint.” “Volunteers” was a strong word. She was a volunteer EMT – registered with the state for the work – and was working on becoming a registered nurse. When they let her, she did her best to help out at Watchpoint and some of the local hospitals. It was hard for her to find time around helping Rein at the diner and was more often than not the reason for the soot-like smears that occasionally appeared beneath her eyes, but despite her obvious exhaustion it brought joy into her blue eyes and that’s all that mattered to Jesse. “It’s time we did our part too.” Jack held up a large, scarred hand to stop Jesse’s protests before he could voice them. “It’s one of those things that you just don’t think about,” he added quietly. “The thing that’s swept under the rug and forgotten. Watchpoint is one of those things.” He nodded at Ana as she fussed with her plants on the truck. “She was having tea with Angie when a group of the nurses came in. They nearly broke Rein’s heart when they said that they weren’t sure if they could eat his stew again since they had the best food they’d ever had up at Watchpoint the other weekend. Now, everyone  _ knows _ that Watchpoint don’t got the best food but here these little nurses go on and on about fresh fruit and huge stock pots full of stew.”

Jesse glanced with Jack over his shoulder at the brothers. They had their heads together, still seemingly arguing over the corn. Genji seemed opposed to some of his choices as well, gesturing at the crates that Jesse had stacked in the aisles.

“So Ana and Angie get them talking,” Jack murmured. “They talk about sunflowers and two young men visiting each room to deliver one in person. They talk about how they volunteered themselves to cook – turned the kitchen into a mess in the process – but they made enough to feed the entire complex and then cleaned up after themselves.” Surprised, Jesse looked back at Jack. “It made me think. It made Ana think. So we made some calls.” He shrugged as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “We volunteered Gabe to help start a community garden – some of our extras will volunteer to upgrade their landscaping. You’re welcome to help as well, of course.”

Mystified, Jesse nodded once in agreement.

Jack gestured vaguely to the truck behind him. “Ana suggested some flowers and we packed seeds in there for the patients to germinate in their rooms. Give them all something bright and something to look forward to and take care of.” He nodded behind Jesse. “I’ll give you the invoice with all of the groceries we’re loading in your truck so they don’t double up.” Clapping a large, chapped hand on Jesse’s shoulder, he limped back to the truck and dug around. When Gabe switched his ire from Ana to him, Jack told him some very unflattering things in stilted Spanish; Ana howled with laughter, vaulting neatly over the side of the truck and snatched the clipboard out of Jack’s hands.

“You finish up here,” Ana told Jesse as she passed it to him. Jack climbed into the cab, yelling in his stilted Spanish for Gabe to get his ham thighs into the truck. “I’m going to get lunch ready and make sure the boys are loading everything correctly. Invite your friends up,” she added, gesturing over his shoulder to the brothers. “I’ll send Zarya down in a few minutes so you can come up and eat some lunch.”

Ana waved vaguely over his shoulder and left; a moment later, a brazen arm draped itself over Jesse’s shoulders. He tried not to laugh as he watched Ana flip off the flatbed as it passed and two hands on either side of the cab shot out of the open windows to return the gesture.

“How odd,” Genji said. “Can I steal you for a moment, cowboy?”

“Sure,” Jesse agreed, letting the other man steer him back into the stand where Hanzo stood with a sour look on his face and his arms crossed.

“We’re making dinner up at Watchpoint again,” Genji explained. “But my _ brother _ and I can’t seem to agree on what to make!”

Jesse peeked down at the clipboard in his hands. “Well I heard you guys made the best stew some nurses had ever had,” he offered and Hanzo’s expression broke into something soft and surprised. He flicked his hat up and smiled. “Nearly broke Rein’s heart – the big guy down at the diner – when they told him they weren’t sure his was up to snuff anymore.”

Throwing his head back, Genji laughed. “That’s what I was saying!” he told Jesse smugly. “We should make something big and hearty!”

“It’s summer, Genji,” Hanzo said peevishly.

While the brothers bickered, Jesse peeked down at the list and couldn’t help but whistle. He had their attention in an instant, eyes in amber and onyx peering at him intently. “Well, that was my boss, Jack,” he explained, gesturing vaguely at the truck. “They said they’re heading up to Watchpoint now to deliver flowers.” Jesse prudently decided against mentioning that Hanzo and Genji had been the one to inspire that. “He n’ Ana gave me time off to make your deliveries too and apparently some of the crew are loading up my truck with their own…ah…contributions. They sent me an invoice and everything.” He handed it to Hanzo shyly and their fingers brushed.

“No,” Hanzo snapped without looking at the clipboard. “We can’t ask them to do that.” 

“We’re a little late to stop them,” Genji pointed out and Hanzo scowled darkly at him. He made grabby hands at the clipboard and Hanzo jerked it out of his brother’s reach. “Look,  _ aniki _ ,” Genji said with a heavy sigh. “It’s done.” 

Hanzo continued to scowl at the list, flipping back and forth between the pages. “We will pay for them,” Hanzo insisted, jabbing a finger at Jesse’s chest. 

“Nope,” Jesse replied and Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. Gone were the playful smiles hidden in those onyx orbs; now it was rage, frustration - something he’d expect to see out of a captive predator rather than a man like Hanzo. “It’s not my call,” he insisted. “The owner of the farm put this together. If you wanna deal with that, take it up with him - or Ana.” 

When Genji looked at him blankly, Jesse covered his right eye with one hand. “Ah,” Genji said quietly in understanding. 

Hanzo slapped the clipboard into Jesse’s chest and he caught it just before it began to fall. “Take me to her,” he snarled. 

“Are you done here?” Jesse wanted to know. “She wants you to come up for lunch.”

“Early,” Genji commented, his amber eyes flicking between Hanzo and Jesse nervously. “But it would be welcomed.” 

“No,” Hanzo snapped. “I wish to speak with her.” 

What exactly he was declining wasn’t clear but Jesse knew better than to argue and tugged his phone out.  _ Sending Han and Genji up, _ he texted Ana. Almost immediately it was marked as Read; Ana was eerily prompt like that.  _ Han has issue w del WP _ . 

_ Potassium _ , Ana replied.  _ Send them up and I’ll send Zarya in the meantime so you can come up too _ . 

_ Potassium _ , Jesse shot back and tucked his phone away. “Ana’s expectin’ y’,” he told the brothers. “Why don’t y’all head up?”

The wind fell from Hanzo’s sails; not much, but just enough for Jesse to notice. “You’re letting us go up alone?” he asked, his dark eyes hard. There was another message hidden in his words that Jesse wasn’t sure he was reading correctly.

“Can’t leave the stand unattended,” Jesse explained regretfully. “But Ana says that Zarya is on her way down to spell me and after lunch, while I’m out making the deliveries, Ana will spell  _ her _ .”

Genji crossed his arms playfully, trying to make light of the situation. “Fareeha – and  _ yes _ , cowboy, she  _ did _ correct me,” Jesse laughed when he made a face. “And Zarya…such strange names.”

“’M pretty sure ‘Ana’ ain’t her real name either,” Jesse added. When both brothers blinked at him, he chuckled. “’Ana’ means ‘mother’.”

Genji’s green brows rose toward his hairline. “’Mother’?” he echoed and Jesse shrugged.

“She’s pretty much the mother of the farm,” he explained. “She makes the meals, Jack ‘n Gabe give us the work.” He grinned. “We do our own laundry, though. And Ana refuses to come near our rooms.”

“You all live here?” Genji asks, surprised. Even Hanzo looked interested, though his brows remained furrowed. His mouth was still tipped down in a frown, making his face look stony and severe. “Do all farms do that?”

Jesse shrugged. “Don’t know much ‘bout other farms,” he admitted. “But Jack n’ Ana n’ Gabe go way back. When Ana and ‘Ree – Fareeha, her daughter… _ actual  _ daughter, mind –  moved from Egypt, they scooped me up and moved in with Jack n’ Gabe. Then Rein – the big guy at the diner – and Angela were hitting some rough times with the restaurant so Jack n’ Gabe let ‘em stay here.” He gestured toward the main house, blocked by the walls of little farm stand. “He was running outta room so then he built The Barracks. When we go up I’ll show ya, but it’s like a barn for people – little apartment rooms and stuff, showers – indoors and out for when we’re out in the field and come back all dirty. Rein n’ Angela still live here, an’ Zarya too.”

“Wow,” Genji said with an impressed whistle. “What about Ana? Does she live in The Barracks too?”

“Naw,” Jesse said with a chuckle. “Ana n’ Jack n’ Gabe are all in the main house. ‘Ree n’ I had rooms there at one point but I moved myself to The Barracks when they were done. Despite the name, they’re quite nice. Maybe I’ll show you sometime,” he added with a wink that had Hanzo blushing bright red.

Genji laughed, clapping his hands delightedly. “But what kind of name is Fareeha? And Zarya?”

Glancing over Genji’s shoulder, Jesse smiled before returning his attention to the brothers. “Fareeha…well, I guess it’s Egyptian. That’s where she and Ana are from – their accents too. As for Zarya…”

“Aleksandra Zaryanova,” the big woman said, making Hanzo and Genji jump with surprise. For such a massive woman, she could move  _ very quietly _ , even on the gravel and the creaky floors of the stand. To Jesse’s amusement, she towered over both brothers, even Genji who was a little taller than his brother. One of her biceps – much like Rein’s – was as large around as their thighs. Which was no small feat considering both brothers seemed to be very well muscled. “Am pleased to meet you.”

There was no masking her accent and the origins of her name and Genji nodded in acknowledgement, the answer to his question. She had trouble speaking English but it was never  _ hard _ to understand her, even with her strong accent and her tendency to skip words entirely. The most difficult part was when she forgot the name of things – usually vegetables – and would have to spend time and care in explaining them.

The time she had described a zucchini as “ _ dha big green penis _ ” was one of his favorite moments of working at the stand. “ _ Nutt fruit _ ,” she had gone on to explain, realizing that cucumbers – in season as well at that time – were also green and shaped similarly. One big hand – as large as Jesse’s head – appeared to cup something round and she had later explained to Jesse that she had meant the gesture to indicate an apple or a peach – things that were round fruits. “ _ Nutt fruit, green penis _ ,” she had repeated insistently, growing frustrated when she couldn’t remember the words. Then she used both hands, one over the other, to pantomime something long and round and though she hadn’t meant it to, it looked incredibly vulgar.

Fortunately she had only been talking to Ana at the time (although Jesse was obviously present) and not a customer and the woman seemed to take it in stride. It didn’t stop her from chuckling warmly at the big Russian woman.

Ana had asked what vegetable Zarya had wanted for dinner. As a private joke between the three of them, Ana had found a bunch of small cucumbers and carved them crudely to look like penises and placed them on each plate before the meal.

“My name is Genji,” the green-haired man said, bravely offering a hand to the Russian. “Nice to meet you too, Aleksandra Zaryanova.”

The woman offered a great boom of laughter and wrapped Genji’s little hand in one of hers with great care. There was still dirt under her nails and caught in the hairs of her arms so Jesse figured she was loading crates of produce or working in the house gardens when Ana sent her down. “Cull me Zarya,” she said warmly. She offered Hanzo a hand to take, which he hesitantly did. “Pleasure to be meetink you.”

When Zarya opened her mouth to Jesse, he raised his hands. “I know, I know,” he said with a laugh. “Did Ana tell you what was for lunch?”

Zarya threw her hands up in the air. “Always thinking with stomach!” she said in mock despair though a wide smile stretched across her face. “But go! Something was smelling gut!”

“Thanks for covering for me,” Jesse added as he gestured to the brothers to head out.

“Is no problem!” Zarya insisted. “Is slow day, Ana says.”

Passing one of the pallets, Jesse picked up a zucchini. “Until after lunch,” he said. “But hopefully Ana’ll be down to help you.” He tossed the vegetable at Zarya, who caught it with a booming laugh.

“Is zucchini!” she roared and laughed.

With a wink, a click of his tongue, and a finger gun aimed at Zarya, Jesse ushered the brothers out of the stall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't yet decided if this is a single cohesive story or a series of vignettes and stolen moments. 
> 
> In any case, I have a few chapters already written out but I've been trying to practice patience and not post all of them at once haha. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who left kudos and reviews. All of your appreciation is very much appreciated :)


	4. The River and the Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any chance you can part with a plant?” Genji pressed gently. “Or a few seeds? Our mother is enamored with them.”
> 
> “We will pay you this time,” Hanzo said firmly, looking up with onyx eyes.
> 
> Genji hid a Cheshire grin behind his hand. “Hanzo can pay you,” he teased. “Perhaps with dinner sometime?”
> 
> “Take the offer,” Ana muttered in Spanish as she primly brought her fork to her lips. “He’s cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And she rolls (and he rolls),  
> She’s a river (he’s a highway)  
> Where she goes (where he goes)  
> Time will tell (time will tell)  
>  **Heaven knows she can’t go with him (he can’t go with her)**  
>  And she rolls, all by herself  
> And he rolls, all by himself
> 
> ~ _The River and the Highway_ by Pam Tillis

 

As they walked away, they could still hear the echoes of Zarya’s loud laughter. “She once forgot the word for ‘zucchini’,” Jesse explained quietly as he led them up the gravel path to the main house. “She described it as ‘the big green penis’. ‘Though I suppose I should be wondering why she remembered ‘penis’ but not ‘zucchini’.”

That had Genji laughing outright, clapping his hands with delight. His brother was more reserved, tucking his head and looking away to hide the shy smile lighting up his face. “I never knew people could get so  _ big _ ,” Genji said. (“That’s what she said,” Jesse muttered quickly, making Hanzo snort into his hand, twisting his body to hide his mirth. Genji rolled his eyes and quick as a flash, flipped Jesse off though his grin was smug and pleased and Jesse had the feeling that it had very little to do with the joke.) “She and Rein are  _ massive! _ And so are some of the nurses at Watchpoint!”

“Rein and Zarya are a bunch of freaks,” Jesse agreed with a wink to show he didn’t mean it badly. “Ana likes to say that they’re so big ‘cause they ate their veggies as kids.”

Genji laughed again, his smile looking ready to split his face in half. He liked to smile and clap as he laughed, Jesse noticed. And despite looking that he was only a few years younger than Jesse himself, he still seemed to act like a teenager or young adult. He was happy where his brother was serious but perhaps comparing the two wasn’t fair.  _ Hanzo _ had a sense of humor that was dark and sharp, his eyes not missing a thing. They danced together on the edge of a blade, neither sure when their game would tip the other off.  _ Genji _ was much more open, all wide smiles and jokes. He was the joy to his brother’s responsibility, the outward representation of Hanzo’s humor. Jesse had yet to see him serious so he supposed that Genji’s childlike joy was his natural state; Hanzo was the opposite, holding his humor close while projecting the aura of Responsible Older Brother.

Seeing them together made Jesse smile. They were the embodiment of balance; yin and yang and  _ God Almighty _ he hoped that wasn’t racist.

Hanzo remained shy but stern while they walked, peering curiously at the tufts of grass peeking up at the edge of the gravel path, at the divots created by tires and rain, at the large house at the top of the hill.

“This here’s the main house,” Jesse said, waving at the large two-story building. “We call it Base on the radios when we’re out in the field. Don’t let it fool you,” he added. “It’s mostly kitchen – has to be to deal with everyone’s appetites. Ana  n’ Jack n’ Gabe’s rooms’re all upstairs. Half the downstair’s kitchen; the other half’s dining room.”

Jesse had always liked the main house. It had a large veranda with porch swings that let anyone sitting there stare out over the fields. Jack’s farm was surprisingly large, even without taking into consideration Gabe’s portion with his livestock. It kept everyone busy, but it was a good kind of busy and it was always nice, driving back in the ATVs from the field to see the crisp white house at the top of the hill, all of the windows lit warmly with a golden glow.

For as long as he could remember, Jesse had always felt like a ship’s captain coming home to port. The endless rows of dirt or bales of hay or waving green of the crops on either side of the service roads felt like the gentle rolling of the sea and the house (Base, they always called it on the radio), felt like the harbor lighthouse guiding the way. Fareeha knew this, of course. Even as young teenagers they would pretend to be pirates or the captains of great naval ships as they zipped around on their dirt bikes or ATVs.

Base – and the small silhouette of Ana with her pre-dinner mug of tea – had always called them home as the sun dipped below the horizon. Even in the early days when Jesse was still afraid, Base was always a comforting watchman on the hill; he could fear the strangers in it but never the house itself.

He was pulled from his quiet musings when he realized that Hanzo had stopped and was staring up at the house. By then they were close enough that Jesse could smell what Zarya had promised. 

“ _ Aniki _ ,” Genji said, a hint of a playfully childish whine in his voice. “Come on!”

Jesse met Hanzo’s eyes as they dropped and smiled reassuringly. When Hanzo returned the gesture, it was a little shaky as if he had been thrown off by something, but Jesse knew it was genuine. “Ana!” Jesse bellowed as he opened the door, startling Genji who had been standing beside it.

“I’m missing an eye, not an ear,  _ habibi _ ,” Ana called back dryly as Jesse ushered the brothers inside. She made a face when Jesse bent to kiss her cheek and hand her the clipboard. “Go wash up, you’re filthy! You too, boys; Jesse can show you the washroom. Lunch is in the dining room already.”

Laughing, Jesse waved them further into the house. He pointed to a large doorway. “That’s the dining room, and on the other side’s the kitchen.” Pulling open a door, he gestured the brothers in and they found a large commercial bathroom. “The washrack’s here. We got lots of sinks so we can clean up real quick for Ana’s food. And with all the appetites here, you wanna move quick or there won’t be food left.”

“ _ Not true! _ ” they heard Ana yell from elsewhere in the house.

Genji chuckled as Jesse began religiously scrubbing his hands. Both brothers appeared particular as well, washing up to their elbows, around their wrist and between their fingers, over the knuckles and nails. They had an efficiency to them that spoke of lots of practice and Jesse wondered briefly what they did. In the end he decided not to ask – he liked a little mystery in his life.

“I’m sure you have quite an appetite as well, cowboy,” Genji teased.

In the mirror, Jesse winked at Hanzo, who looked down and focused on his hands. “I do,” he agreed good-naturedly. “Just depends on what’s on offer.”

Genji laughed and Hanzo blushed and they all finished washing their hands. “Such a lovely house, Miss Ana,” Genji told the woman as they walked to the dining room.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she said. “I should have asked earlier, but do either of you have dietary restrictions?” She led them into the spacious dining room, filled with cafeteria-like tables and a buffet-like table. “It’s easier to have them feed themselves,” she explained to the brothers though they didn’t ask. “And when you have a room full of hungry hands, food goes quickly. Help yourself!”

The brothers looked at the table with interest. “I’d be a vegetarian but I could never give up fish,” Genji said with a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with Hanzo. Not diet-wise, anyway,” he added and his brother glared at him.

“What a relief!” Ana said with a motherly smile. She pinched Jesse’s arm when he moved toward the piles of plates. “Guests first,  _ habibi _ .”

Jesse rolled his eyes teasingly but obeyed; he yelped when Ana pinched his arm again, harder. He yelled a third time when Ana ripped his hat off and slapped his shoulder with it. “Aw,” he whined. “Is it ‘pick on Jesse’ day?” he fell silent when Ana jabbed a finger at him. When she turned away, he found Hanzo looking at him, his brows high on his forehead in quiet amusement. Behind Ana’s back, he mimed wiping away sweat in relief. The man ducked his head to hide a smile as he began serving himself.

“ _ You seem troubled _ ,” Ana said in accented Spanish. “ _ What’s wrong,  _ habibi?”

The brothers glanced over and Jesse bit his lip. “ _ Leave it _ ,” he murmured in the same language. In English, he said, “can I eat now or will you pinch me again?” Ana pinched him and stepped in front of him, making Genji laugh again. “Mother’s always right,” he said with a shrug at Hanzo.

“Thank you for the food, Miss Ana,” Hanzo said quietly as they sat down to eat. “It all smells lovely.”

“I’m glad,” Ana replied, folding herself neatly into a seat across from them. “When Jesse said that he was making friends with you, I’ve been –  _ Jesse, don’t you dare put that hat back on your head _ ,” she said severely without turning around. “Manners,  _ habibi _ ,” she added with a put-upon sigh. Seeing Genji’s stifled snickers, she smiled. “When I lost my eye, I had it put in the back of my head.”

The brothers ducked their heads to chuckle, Genji nearly choking on his food. “She means it,” Jesse said grimly as he carried his own plate, piled high with food, back to the table. He slid into the seat beside Ana and was privately pleased to see that it was across from Hanzo. From the blush on the other man’s face, he noticed the same thing. “You have  _ no _ idea how hard it was to hide  _ anything _ from her.”

“Your life was such a trial,” Hanzo teased, to Jesse’s pleasure. “Such a mama’s boy.”

Jesse threw his head back and laughed, wincing when Ana punched his shoulder.

“This is delicious!” Genji exclaimed. “ _ Aniki _ , did you try the ratatouille?”

“ _ What was that for? _ ” Jesse complained to Ana in Spanish.

“ _ I like him better than you _ ,” Ana replied in the same language.

Seeing Hanzo looking at them shyly, Jesse smiled. “Ana says she likes Genji better’n me,” he said, wincing when Ana punched him again. Even though he was in her blind spot, she always hit her mark on his arm and he winced. There would definitely be a bruise there later. “Maybe if you ask nicely she’ll teach you. Lord knows she won’t teach me- _ OW! _ ”

That made the brothers laugh and Jesse was happy to play the fool if it meant seeing the light flush on Hanzo’s cheeks, even if his laughter was at his expense. Once the assault on his arm was over, he began eating, humming with delight – as ever – at Ana’s familiar cooking.

The brothers also ate, asking questions about spices and ingredients. Hanzo had a wistful look when Ana described the places she’s gone with the Egyptian military and the spices she encountered. 

“Hanzo’s always wanted to travel,” Genji said, earning a glare from his brother. “It was his big dream.”

“What’s stopping you?” Ana asked as the elder of the two looked down at his plate.

“Our mother,” he said shortly and Jesse would have given his left arm to see him smile again. Under the table, he gently nudged Hanzo’s ankle and smiled reassuringly at him when he looked up. Hanzo looked away. “It will be a long time before I will be able to travel. But everything happens for a reason.”

Ana sighed. “It seems like every time we stop to eat we find a reason to bring the conversation down,” she complained to Jesse. “I blame you.”

“I did  _ nothing _ … _ this time _ ,” Jesse added with dramatic pause. Genji smiled reassuringly where Hanzo couldn’t see it. “ _ I _ didn’t know that Gabe didn’t tell Angie that  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck ended up as the roast.”

Hanzo’s head snapped up, incredulous and trying to hide his curiosity. So Ana told the story of the chick that Angela had adopted, had named  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck, and who had tragically learned after a particularly delicious winter dinner with the other residents of the Barracks that  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck had been mistakenly been slaughtered for dinner. Angela’s only consolation - which made her cry to admit and had been the reason for her brief stint into veganism - was that  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck had tasted  _ delicious _ . 

By the end of the story, Genji was nearly crying with mirth though he professed that it was a tragic thing to learn, especially after  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck had been eaten. But it seemed that his curiosity could not be sated as shortly after, he began to pepper Ana with more questions about cooking and spices. 

Though he knew his spices and ingredients well enough, their application was beyond him. Besides: he was much more interested in the angel sitting across the table from him. Hanzo didn’t participate but he seemed to be listening with interest, peeking down at his plate curiously as if critiquing Ana’s food and finding it more than pleasing. 

Despite the careful save of the levity of the conversation, Jesse could still see the quiet longing in Hanzo’s eyes. It grew as Genji and Ana’s debate over spices, ingredients, and cooking methods turned exotic. 

Jesse could understand the look for what it was: Hanzo was the type of man that was best suited for movement, like water; in constant motion, flowing, never quite settling down. Remembering those hazy days before he ran away from home, Jesse could relate. It had been an itch beneath his skin he couldn’t quite scratch.

Only, Hanzo didn’t look like the kind of person that would eventually settle down. A long time ago, Ana had once described Jesse as a maple seed: once set free, he roamed until the wind let him touch down and once he was in a suitable place he set down his roots. Even knowing him for such a short time, Jesse could already tell that Hanzo wasn’t at all like a maple seed. In fact, he didn’t seem like a seed at all, but more like a drifting piece of wood: worn smooth but in motion, always about to wander away when the opportunity – or the tide – called.

The thought sobered him as Genji and Ana dragged Hanzo into their conversation. It meant that Hanzo wouldn’t stay…but seeing his shy smile, the way his onyx eyes lit up as he spoke about the places he wanted to go, the food he wanted to try, the culinary schools all around the world he wanted to visit, Jesse thought that even the shortest time spent with him would be worth it.

Returning to his ratatouille – Ana did have a way with vegetables, especially the ones she tended in the greenhouse – Jesse caught Genji’s eye across the table. The man’s amber eyes were sharp and for a moment he looked like a perched hawk that had seen its prey; then they softened and he smiled at Jesse, returning effortlessly to the conversation.

“Some of the hands have no cooking experience,” Ana was saying. “But sometimes I can find a few that can help me cut vegetables or do prep work. My mother taught me to cook and I have taught Fareeha but apparently it’s a dying practice these days.”

The brothers chuckled politely. “What about you, Jesse?” Genji asked, mirth in his eyes. “Can  _ you _ cook?”

Jesse found himself chuckling. “About I can do is burn things,” he admitted. “Ain’t much good for more than that.”

“His gift is outside,” Ana said with a smirk toward him. “My best herbs come from his gardens but the moment you put a knife in his hands, he’s more likely to cut himself than what’s on the board!”

Shaking his head in mock embarrassment, Jesse nudged Ana gently with his elbow. “Shh!” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “You’re not supposed to tell them that! I wanna impress them!”

“Not with your cooking,  _ habibi _ ,” Ana replied teasingly, patting his arm. “I’m sure you can impress them with your other skills.”

It sounded so lewd, said in the accented voice of his adopted mother, that Jesse drew up straight, a blush staining his dark cheeks. “ _ Ana! _ ” Genji howled with laughter and Hanzo turned bright red, looking doggedly down at his plate.

“I was referring to your flowers,” Ana replied primly, as if she hadn’t caused such a scandal at the lunch table. “I can’t imagine what  _ else _ you may have been thinking.”

Genji nudged Hanzo, who continued to blush, picking at his plate. “Hanzo said that  _ you _ grew those flowers? The red and gold ones?”

Relieved, Jesse latched on to the new topic. “Yes,” he agreed. “They’re a strain my ma used to grow.”

“Any chance you can part with a plant?” Genji pressed gently. “Or a few seeds? Our mother is enamored with them.”

“We will pay you this time,” Hanzo said firmly, looking up with onyx eyes.

Genji hid a Cheshire grin behind his hand. “ _ Hanzo _ can pay you,” he teased. “Perhaps with dinner sometime?”

“ _ Take the offer _ ,” Ana muttered in Spanish as she primly brought her fork to her lips. “ _ He’s cute _ .”

Jesse glared at her; out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hanzo do the same to his brother. “Shoot,” he said, seeing how clearly uncomfortable the other man was. “We can negotiate payment later, darlin’. For now we can add the plant to the things in my truck.”

So reminded, Hanzo’s brows snapped together and he turned to Ana. “Why don’t you clean up,  _ habibi _ ,” she suggested, putting a hand on his wrist. “You can use one of the pots in the greenhouse if you don’t have one.”

Glancing back and forth between the brothers and Ana, he sighed and kissed her cheek. He knew a dismissal when he heard it. “Thanks for lunch, Ma,” he said quietly and she quirked a smile at him. “Can I take your plates? If you’re not done, you can always grab more.”

Genji’s grin was quick and reassuring. “Thank you, Jesse,” he said. “But I guess more food will have to wait – clearly it’s time to talk business.” He passed both his plate and Hanzo’s while his brother seemed to be gathering himself. Jesse didn’t blame him – Ana was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’ll just go and clean this up then I’ll get that flower ready,” Jesse called over his shoulder, moving into the kitchen. It was just far enough away and with enough buffering walls that only Ana with her freakish hearing could pick up conversation in the dining room so he didn’t even bother trying to listen in on the conversation. He set about cleaning the dishes, pleased to see that Hanzo and Genji seemed to have enjoyed their meal if their bare plates were any indication.

It was nice to see someone other than the farm hands and volunteers enjoy her food. With the plates washed and tucked into the drying rack, Jesse ducked out the side door near the kitchen. Holding his breath past the compost heaps (not that he  _ needed _ to, but it had been a joking habit that he and Fareeha had picked up as children that they hadn’t grown out of), Jesse made his way to Ana’s greenhouse.

There were the main fields that held Jack’s crops, meticulously mapped out over the winter months by the man himself, and then there were rows of greenhouses in the area surrounding Base. Planning the crops was a season-long ordeal and the permanent hands like Jesse and Zarya got to vote on what they wanted to plant and – to a small extent – how much of it. An entire wall of the dining room, depressingly empty in those months without the seasonal workers to fill the voids, was taken up with a large-scale map of the farm that Jack would use to visually represent his crops.

After the third year of this type of planning, they gave up a temporary one and simply had a graphics company take a satellite image of the farm and make a wall-sized sticker so Jack could draw directly on the wall in marker.

The greenhouses were similarly planned out but were there for a few different reasons. Two of them were reserved for Base, allowing them to get fresh vegetables during the winter and out of season. One of them served as Ana’s private greenhouse, a gift one year from Jack so she could replenish her garden or save her favorite plants during the winter months. She sometimes shared a small corner of it with Jesse so he could get his sunflowers started early.

The rest of the greenhouses served as nurseries for the crops if needed and to prepare seedling packets for the various farmers markets Jack had them going to. If he had been a betting man, Jesse would guess that one of them was half-empty (or half-full, depending on how he looked at it, he supposed) as there had been a lot of those seedling packets in the back of the flatbed Jack had been driving earlier.

Ducking into Ana’s greenhouse, he paused to wipe his sweat from his face at the humidity before rooting around for a pot. He grabbed a nice terra cotta one from the pile and marked it on the supplies list – Ana was a stickler for numbers , and he didn’t want another excuse for her to punch his shoulder again – and went out to his garden.

Jack and Gabe were both gruff men, but they were fair and kind. Shortly after Ana had dragged him to the farm to live, they had created his garden for him. They had caught him hiding more often than not in the fields, angry and bitter at the world. All he had left, he had once screamed at them, were a sad handful of seeds.

The garden had sprung up overnight. Ana told him many years later that Jack and Gabe had stayed up late into the night, digging up a portion of the yard, lining it with rocks, weeding it, mulching it, preparing the space for whatever he had wanted to fill it with. Sunflowers, they had hoped. If that was all he had left of his mother, let him plant it.

It had been Ana who helped him plant them, as the two men had to work the fields or the barns during the day. She reminded him to water the plants, would sit beside him and had showed him how to pull out the stubborn weeds.

When the flowers had bloomed, she had indulged him and lay between the rows of sunflowers and stared up at the sky through emerald leaves and red-and-gold petals.

When the flowers sagged on their fat stems, their faces dark and fat with seeds, she showed him how to save them for the next growing season, how to expand the special flowers until his garden was full to bursting with them.

Now “his” garden was the size of most people’s backyards and he had bags and bags of dried seeds of his mother’s flowers and more in one of Jack’s greenhouses as seedlings to give away at fairs. With Ana’s help he had preserved the line as well as he could but at the same time he didn’t want them to remain static. In his hazy memories with his mother, the red hearts of the petals were brighter, closer to crimson and the tips were bright yellow. With time his strain had darkened, had  _ matured _ like wine so that the hearts were burgundy, the tips a ruddy gold.

After all, he had changed, too; he wasn’t quite the same empty-headed child that had run away from home so long ago.

He stood, looking over the sea of green and wine-red and gold. A few of them were cut short – the dozen or so that had led him to meet Hanzo. With a smile, he knelt and stroked the cut ends, running his fingers over the tough skin that had tucked inward as if appalled that he had cut them.

At the edges of the garden area were his smaller varieties. When he had been learning about natural selection in middle school, he had begun the experiment of “breeding” the flowers. He separated the seeds of different flowers – tall ones, short ones, ones with wide faces and short fat petals – and began encouraging only those traits, working and working at them for years.

His  _ chicas _ , as he privately called them, were only a little taller than his splayed hand, the flowers as big around as a silver dollar at their smallest. It would be perfect to take to a small hospital room in Watchpoint.

“They’re beautiful,” a voice said behind him and Jesse yelped, nearly falling into the garden. The terra cotta pot in his hand thumped to the ground and rolled but blessedly did not break. Turning, Jesse found Hanzo staring at the rows of flowers. “This is your garden?”

Smiling, Jesse pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t ask why Hanzo was out so quickly – Ana was abrupt like that – but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset by it, even if the man’s attention was resting behind him. “Technically it’s the community garden,” he said with a shrug. “On the other side of the path is where everyone else plants their stuff. Mostly just Zarya, though.”

“I got kicked out,” Hanzo said after a pause, even though Jesse didn’t ask. “I was told that I couldn’t dictate what charities others give.” Jesse hid a smile behind his hand; that sounded like Ana. “Genji was more interested in…other pursuits. They suggested I come out here to help.” The man blushed. “You clearly don’t need it – it’s just planting…pulling out a flower.”

“Naw,” Jesse agreed. “But since you’re here…how about you do it? Make it more special for your ma?”

Hanzo blinked in surprise, crossing his arms self-consciously across his chest. “I’m…not sure.”

Smiling, Jesse held out the gardening spade, handle-first, to Hanzo. “C’mon, we can wash up afterwards before we go.” Cheeks burning, Jesse ducked his head. “I can help you too, if you want?”

“Very well,” Hanzo murmured shyly and moved to kneel where Jesse indicated. He blushed bright red. “Are you sure this isn’t a trick to get me on my knees?”

“Sweet cheeks,” Jesse murmured, slipping to his knees next to him. “Ain’t ever gonna trick you into that if you don’t wanna.” Hanzo blushed bright red and Jesse leaned boldly closer, hoping he didn’t smell too bad in the hot June heat. The man was trembling minutely, the blush spreading to his collar bones and chest. “I prefer that spot myself.”

A strangled squeak escaped Hanzo and he shuddered, still blushing, as Jesse wrapped his hand around the spade. “So vulgar,” Hanzo whispered back, turning his head slightly so he could look at Jesse with one near-black eye.

“I’ll show you vulgar, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, letting his arm snake over the back of Hanzo’s hand to wrap loosely around his wrist. “Just say the word.” 

Hanzo chuckled, his other arm snaking around the wrist Jesse wrapped around his hip. “How bold,” he murmured as he tangled their fingers together, his thumb sliding along the soft skin between Jesse’s pointer finger and thumb teasingly. 

Humming, pleased with the reactions he’d been getting so far, Jesse manipulated Hanzo’s hand to tip the spade into the ground. “I’ll be as bold as you like me to be, sugar bean,” he murmured. “I’ll go as far as fast as you’d like.” 

Smiling impishly, Hanzo turned and they were pressed nose-to-nose, close enough to share breaths. “Is that a promise?” 

“Darlin’,” Jesse breathed. “Whatever your little heart desires.”

Hanzo turned slightly, releasing his hands to bring one up to Jesse’s neck, tracing his jawline. He thumbed the rough beard there, brushed up toward Jesse’s ear to cup his skull gently. “And if I want everything?”

Humming, Jesse looped his arms around as much of Hanzo’s waist as he could reach without dislodging the hand on his jaw. “Then everything you shall have.” 

The other man chuckled, low and husky and it was a good thing that Jesse was kneeling because he was sure his legs would have given out beneath him. “So bold,” Hanzo murmured, brushing his nose lightly, teasingly against Jesse’s. “So...accomodating.” 

Cautiously, Jesse reached up to cup Hanzo’s jaw in the mirror to the way the other man’s was resting on his own. Hanzo shivered as Jesse brushed his fingers below the little curve of his jaw, when his fingertips touched the soft skin behind his ear. “This okay, darlin’?” Jesse whispered into the space between them.

Much to his surprise, despite his seemingly shy nature, Hanzo was the first to bridge the gap between them and press his lips to Jesse’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any errors you might find. I write and review these myself so there's a chance that I missed a few. 
> 
> Thank you again for all the kudos and reviews - they're very much appreciated!
> 
> ~DC


	5. Country Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When no other comment was forthcoming, the plastic spoon halted in her mouth as if forgotten, Jesse cleared his throat and belatedly took his hat off. “I was wondering if that hat would come off or if it was permanently stuck to your head.”
> 
> Jesse blushed and ducked his head. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said to the tiles just in front of his toes. “I just forget sometimes.”
> 
> “Probably because you are mooning after Hanzo Shimada,” Orisa observed and there was another little rattle and hiss of plastic as she threw away her spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost heaven, West Virginia  
> Blue Ridge Mountains  
> Shenandoah River,  
> Life is old there  
> Older than the trees  
> Younger than the mountains  
> Blowin’ like the breeze
> 
> **Country roads, take me home  
> **  
>  To the place I belong  
> West Virginia, mountain momma  
> Take me home, country roads  
> ~ _Country Roads_ by John Denver

“Good morning Orisa!” Genji nearly yelled as he burst through the doors, as excited as a child entering a toy store.

“Good morning,” the woman behind the desk replied in a pleasant if tired way. She was a large woman with the darkest skin Jesse had ever seen on another human being, which made the hundreds of little white dots painted in symmetrical sunburst patterns over her face stand out even more. Her black hair was tied in hundreds of little plaits, each tipped with gold and green beads decorated with sun and triangle motifs; these in turn were wrapped with dark green ribbons into two bunches that hung over her shoulders. “Who is your friend?” In contrast to her dark complexion, her eyes were the color of honey.

Genji grinned. “That is my brother, silly!” Genji said, deliberately misunderstanding the question.

“Hmm,” the woman, evidently named Orisa, said. Her green-and-cream scrubs were decorated in similar manner to her braids, in sunburst and triangle motifs. Jesse felt pinned by her golden gaze, not even a little reassured as she casually scooped a spoonful of fruit and yogurt into her mouth.

“This is Jesse,” Hanzo said. “Jesse, this is Orisa - her primary function is in the children’s ward.”

Nervous beneath Orisa’s unnerving stare, Jesse tipped his hat politely, shivering in a way that had little to do with the cool air of the lobby on his sweaty skin. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said awkwardly.

“Hmm,” Orisa said again. “What trouble did you cause in a past life that had you tethered to these hellions?” she asked Jesse directly in an accent that he couldn’t quite place.

Jesse found himself chuckling; much like Hanzo, Orisa seemed to hide her dry humor behind a stoic exterior. Or, perhaps she was as tired as she looked. He supposed that both possibilities were valid. “I can’t imagine _Hanzo_ causing so much trouble; Genji, yes, but not Hanzo!”

Her lips twitched as she dug in her container of yogurt, hidden behind the reception desk. Genji protested loudly. “Then you will be surprised to learn that Hanzo staged a mutiny the last time he visited,” she said dryly as a new man walked into the lobby. “While Genji was in the kitchen, he managed to cause a stampede in the gardens. It took _hours_ to get everyone cleaned up again and back into their rooms.”

“It was a waterballoon fight,” the new man said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. His skin was a few shades lighter than Orisa’s and his salt-and-pepper hair was shaved close to his head, seeming more as an afterthought than a deliberate choice. “And then it spilled out into the garden where they began throwing mud as well.”

Surprised, Jesse turned to Hanzo who was once more blushing and wouldn’t look him. “Really?” Jesse asked, pleased and surprised.

“This is Jesse,” Orisa said to the new man as she tucked another spoonful of yogurt in her mouth.

The man peered at him curiously and Jesse realized that while Hanzo stood beside him in solidarity, Genji was nowhere to be seen. “Nice to meet you, Jesse,” the man said and took a few long steps to offer a large hand. “I’m Dr. Winston. Chief of Staff at Watchpoint...sort of. My job description is a little...difficult to explain,” he added when he saw Jesse’s look of confusion. “I run Watchpoint, is what I suppose it boils down to.”

Orisa continued to calmly eat her yogurt and Jesse was beginning to get the sense that she wasn’t easily bothered by anything. But then, he supposed that it was entirely possible that she was also simply _that_ exhausted. “What do you have there?” She asked, nodding pointedly at the little terra cotta pot cradled in Hanzo’s hands.

“More sunflowers,” Hanzo responded. “Jesse got a pot of the red-and-gold sunflowers for my mother.”

Dr. Winston smiled awkwardly, shuffling backward toward the door he had just breezed through. “I’m sure she will be pleased.”

“Athena is looking for you,” Orisa told the man as he crept out. “I suppose you should find her before she comes looking for you again.” Making a face, Dr. Winston ducked down the hall with a halfhearted wave. “And I suppose you should find your brother before he takes your actions last week as a challenge to out-do.”

Hanzo sighed heavily. “I suppose you are correct,” he said. “Thank you, Orisa.”

The woman hummed, her honey-colored eyes half-closed so that they appeared like black and gold slits on her face. “You go on ahead, Han,” Jesse said. “I’ll take care of the truck.”

With a nervous glance between Jesse and Orisa, Hanzo nodded once and disappeared down a different hall than the one that Dr. Winston had fled down. “Hmm,” Orisa said and there was a gentle crackle as she threw away her cup of yogurt. She licked the last bit of her snack from her spoon without taking her eyes from Jesse.

When no other comment was forthcoming, the plastic spoon halted in her mouth as if forgotten, Jesse cleared his throat and belatedly took his hat off. “I was wondering if that hat would come off or if it was permanently stuck to your head.”

Jesse blushed and ducked his head. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said to the tiles just in front of his toes. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Probably because you are mooning after Hanzo Shimada,” Orisa observed and there was another little rattle and hiss of plastic as she threw away her spoon.

Fiddling with his hat, Jesse coughed. “I...ah...have a delivery to make,” he said, still not looking at Nurse Orisa. “Did…”

“Jack and Gabriel mentioned it,” Orisa replied. “I suppose that would be why Athena is looking for Kayode.” She stood up, revealing herself to be half a head taller than Jesse which made him gulp. “Where did you park?”

Jesse fiddled with his hat and pointed out to the side. “I parked near the old ER entrance,” Jesse said. “I wasn’t sure where the kitchen was but I figured it wasn’t near the front.”

Humming once more, Orisa gestured for him to follow her through yet another doorway, down depressingly empty hallways. “These wards are no longer used,” she said as they walked. “We use them as extra storage, especially the ones closer to the basement. Each patient has an assigned storage room - sometimes two if they are one of our longer-staying patients.”

“How many patients do you have?” Jesse asked politely as he walked quickly after her. He was rarely in such a position that he struggled to keep up with someone else but Orisa was _massive_ and had such long legs.

“In the past they had over two hundred patients,” the nurse replied, turning down another hall and Jesse thought that they were going _down_ a slight incline. “Of course, they also had a veritable army of nurses and staff to assist. Now we’re down to about six permanent residents and we cycle through about ten to twenty recovery patients at a time.”

Jesse looked at her closely and they definitely _were_ going slightly downhill, which made him a little concerned that Orisa was actually going to kill him in the basement of Watchpoint where no one would find his body. “You say ‘they’,” he observed.

Suddenly, Orisa stopped. “ _Halt!_ ” she said so forcefully that Jesse felt his knees instinctively lock up. “Lucio!”

“Aww,” a voice whined further down the hall. “Orisa…”

Orisa grunted. “Don’t ‘Orisa’ me,” she said sternly. She walked briskly forward, leaving Jesse floundering in her wake. “What are you doing down here?”

“She has that effect on people,” a voice said behind him and Jesse shrieked, causing Orisa to turn with a frown across her painted face. Deciding he wasn’t worth her attention, she turned and continued down the hall, which had leveled out and began rising again.

“ _Stop right there!_ ”

Jesse turned to find a grinning Genji leaning against the open doorway of one of the rooms. “She’s quite...intense,” Genji said. “But to be fair, I’m pretty sure Lucio isn’t supposed to be off of his floor. Maybe you’re made of sterner stuff but _I_ didn’t have the heart to leave him behind.”

“Whew,” Jesse said with feeling and then peered at Genji. “Where _are_ we? And why aren’t you visiting your mother?”

Snorting, Genji waved it off and pushed himself of the wall. “We were unloading your truck, of course,” he said as if it were obvious. “Lucio and I were grabbing a few gurneys from down here to see if we could load them and wheel it to the kitchen that way.” He laughed suddenly. “You thought she was going to kill you in the basement of a forgotten hospital?’

Jesse made a face. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“This was the old ER ward,” Genji said, waving for Jesse to follow after him. “Back when this was actually a hospital. The doors to the bays for the ambulances are just up that incline - right where you parked your truck, cowboy.”

Following the sounds of Orisa’s scolding, Jesse followed Genji up the slight incline ahead and found that his statement had been true. He could see the leftover frame of what had once been a sliding glass door behind a heavier set of newer wooden double doors. Two gurneys, stripped of their thin mattresses, were placed haphazardly nearby, one of which was already half-full of produce from the bed of Jesse’s truck.

“Aww, _Orisa_ ,” the boy complained, his voice louder now that Jesse was closer to the source. He looked to be only in his early teens with dark skin and dreadlocks. One arm supported him on a brace while the matching set hung loosely from his other arm, which he had been using to gesture wildly. “You’ve been telling me to use my walker! And I wasn’t _loading_ , I was just... _pushing_ things.”

The woman’s massive arms were crossed over her chest and she _humph_ ed. “While that is true,” she told him, “your physical therapist had been rough on you this morning. I had told you to remain on your floor so you do not strain yourself.”

Rolling his eyes, the boy groaned but it was good-natured, just as was Orisa’s scolding. “I was going _crazy_ and Hanzo was going up there. I thought I’d give them all some privacy.”

Orisa didn’t seem convinced but let it slide. “If you push yourself too hard, I will not hesitate to tie you to a wheelchair,” she threatened, shaking a large finger at the boy.

The boy seemed to notice Jesse at last and hobbled over on his braces to shove a hand out to shake Jesse’s. “Oh man! Are you a real cowboy?” he asked excitedly.

“I hate cows,” Jesse admitted. “But I work over at Jack’s Farm, ‘bout ten minutes down the road. Call me Jesse.”

The boy giggled, swiping at his mouth with his free hand as if to wipe the smirk away. “Jesse James,” he exclaimed. “Famed outlaw of the west.”

Orisa _hmph_ ed but even she seemed amused. “It fits your aesthetic,” she said when Jesse cut a nervous glance at her.

“My name’s Lucio,” the boy continued, sticking his tongue out at Orisa. “And _you’re_ the Jesse that brings Aimi the red and gold sunflowers.”

“And the vegetables,” Orisa added with a pointed glance at Lucio who gave a very put-upon sigh. He hopped to sit on one of the gurneys, the brace around one of his legs making it stick out at an awkward angle. “Which you don’t eat enough of.”

Lucio groaned. “Oo-rii-saa,” he said, drawing her name out.

The woman grunted. “Don’t ‘Orisa’ me,” she told him sternly. “I was told that there would be a lot of vegetables today and I expect you to eat them!”

Jesse coughed, gesturing toward Genji and the open doorway. Just beyond, he could see his truck, the bed already opened and the crates moved around. “I’ll just…go and unload the truck.”

The two didn’t seem to notice as he slipped out but Genji did and he smiled. “She can be overbearing,” he said very quietly. “But she means well and she only wants to see her patients get better.”

“What happened to Lucio?” Jesse asked just as quietly, thinking of the odd angle that Lucio’s brace forced his leg into when he sat on the gurney.

Genji shook his head. “Rule one here: if you want to know about something, ask the source.”

Chastened, Jesse shook his head and tucked his hat in the car. “How many workers are there?” Jesse asked instead.

“I’ve only met a few,” Genji admitted as he wiggled a crate of corn to see how much it weighed. “Torby is the maintenance man, Orisa’s got the child’s ward pretty much all to herself…there’s another nurse that I haven’t met yet but she’s always running around so I think that she just doesn’t have any time.”

“Maybe she’s running from you,” Jesse teased, hefting the crate of corn.

Genji laughed. “I’ll have you know,” he said loftily, flipping his green hair. “That my charm knows no bounds.”

“I’m sure,” Jesse drawled, carrying the crate in and nearly running into Lucio.

The boy laughed as he wobbled out of the way. “You’re sure of _what_ , cowboy?” he teased.

“That Genji’s…‘charm’…knows no bounds,” Jesse said, loud enough for Genji who wobbled behind him with a crate of zucchini.

“You have a boyfriend,” Orisa said teasingly as she walked outside. “Show some decorum!”

Genji laughed as he hefted the crate on to the empty gurney. “You don’t know my man!” he yelled teasingly. “He won’t let me stray!”

“This is a hospital zone,” another voice said and Jesse turned to find a tired-looking woman down the hall. Her scrubs, blue with cream-colored geometric patterns, were rumpled and wrinkled as if she had slept in them. From the wisps of hair escaping the bun her brown hair had been tied in, it looked like she had been. “Why are you shouting?” She asked with a wide yawn.

“Aw, sorry Mei,” Lucio said. “Did we wake you?”

The woman, Mei, blinked at the teenager. “Lucio,” she said, his name sounding weird with her accent. “What are you doing off of your floor?”

“Orisa said I could be here,” Lucio said.

“I said no such thing,” the other nurse replied, ducking back inside. She peered at Jesse and Genji with her honey-colored eyes. “Are you going to help or stand around?”

Chuckling, Jesse dipped the brim of an imaginary hat at Mei – who blinked at him in confusion – before she turned back to Lucio. “You snuck off again,” she said accusingly as Jesse followed Orisa outside. Gabe and Jack had appeared at some point and were moving the produce on the back of Jesse’s truck.

“ _Get the other side of the cooler_ ,” Gabe told Jesse gruffly in Spanish and he hurried to comply because you _didn’t_ leave Gabe waiting.

“ _I wonder what they’ll be making tonight,_ ” Jesse said in the same language, grunting beneath the weight as they pulled the cooler off the bed of the truck. “ _Damn!_ ” he exclaimed. “ _What’s_ in _this thing? It looked light when Hog loaded it!_ ”

Jack snorted. “That’s because it’s Hog,” he said dryly in English.

“ _Beef_ ,” Gabe said shortly.

Orisa pushed a gurney out of the doors and helped Gabe and Jesse lift it. “ _Jesus_ ,” Jesse said with feeling.

“ _You’re slacking,_ ” Gabe grumbled. “ _Getting old? Fat?_ ”

“Rude,” Orisa said in English as she helped Jack shift another cooler over to the gurney. The metal groaned beneath the weight but held sturdy.

Jack shrugged when Orisa looked at him. “That’s Gabe.”

“ _You were old when I met you, boss-man,_ ” Jesse replied glibly, ignoring that Orisa apparently understood Spanish as well; she clicked her tongue in disapproval but it was at least partially a show because her amber eyes seemed amused. “ _And I can_ still _run circles around your ass._ ”

Genji looked back and forth between them when Gabe glared, shoving his shoulder against the gurney. It refused to budge, the wheels locked and digging into the gravel of the driveway. Jesse motioned for him to stop and flicked the little metal pedals within reach of his feet. Seeing what he was doing, Genji did the same on his side and together they began hauling the gurney toward the doors.

“ _Ham thighs_ ,” Jack told Gabe.

“What are they saying to each other?” Genji whispered as Gabe growled something in response.

Jesse chuckled. “They’re just flirting with each other,” he said with a wink. “If I translated, you’d blush so hard your ears fell off.”

“Jack referred to Gabe as ‘ham thighs’,” Orisa said dryly, passing them with her load of stacked produce in her large arms. “Gabe told him, ‘I didn’t hear you complaining last night’.”

Genji, Jack, and Gabe protested loudly as Jesse and Genji hauled the overloaded gurney over the lip at the doors. “I told you,” Jesse told Genji with a laugh. The green-haired man pouted. “As a general rule, you don’t want to hear what they have to say to each other.”

They set Lucio and the new nurse, who tiredly introduced herself as Mei, to pushing two of the gurneys of produce toward the kitchen as Jack and Gabe came in with yet another cooler. “ _I swear, ingrate_ ,” Gabe grumbled to Jesse as he stretched his back. “ _Your boyfriend better be a damn good lay with all the strain you’re putting on my back._ ”

Orisa snorted while Jesse, rare to blush, turned bright red. “ _Jefe!_ ” he said, scandalized.

“What?” Genji demanded. “What did he say?”

Jack grunted. “ _I don’t think_ this _was the thing that’s killing your back,_ ” he said as he walked back out to the truck with Orisa to unload more produce. Though he had been speaking Spanish for as long as Jesse could remember, it seemed that there was some fundamental part of Jack that refused the language as his accent was always rough, the pronunciation of his words rough and crude though not unintelligible. “ _You’re far more ambitious than you should be at your age_.”

Covering his face with both hands, Jesse groaned. “More things I didn’t need to hear,” he grumbled to Genji who looked smug.

“I’ve never seen you turn so red,” he said gleefully.

“You hardly know me,” Jesse protested.

“But I can tell it’s good,” Genji added. “Tell me!” Orisa grumbled as she and Jack returned with what Jesse thought was the last of the produce from his truck. Seeing her, Genji whirled. “Orisa!”

Orisa sighed as she lifted the crate in her hands on the gurney and toed off the locks on the wheels. “Orisa, no!” Jesse protested.

“Orisa, yes!” Genji pressed.

“Orisa might be being paged or may just be ignoring you,” Orisa said, pushing the gurney down the hall. “She recommends that if you want to know what people are saying in Spanish, you _learn_ Spanish,” she added over her shoulder as she pushed the gurney down the hall toward the kitchen.

Leaning over, Gabe nudged Jesse with a massive fist. “ _You’re not dating him?_ ”

“That _is what you ask?_ ” Jesse grumbled, messing around with the wheel locks on the gurney in front of him.

Gabe grunted. “ _The way you were mooning after him, I kind of assumed it_.”

“ _You’re an ass, Gabe,_ ” Jack said dryly. “ _For assuming. Come on – let’s get back to those roses. You know Ana will kill us if we don’t do it right._ ”

Waving to him and Genji, Jack ducked out. Gabe squinted at Jesse for a few seconds more before he followed the other man out. “Spill,” Genji said when they were alone again. “What had you blushing like a teenage girl?”

Jesse groaned but was saved when Genji pushed too excitedly on his loaded gurney and sent it dipping over the edge of the incline and away from the kitchen. As the green-haired man chased after the gurney, Jesse pushed against his own and ran down the hall in the direction Orisa had gone.

* * *

After organizing the kitchen, Mei begged off to resume her nap and Orisa left without explanation though not without each nurse scolding Lucio as they left. The boy took it with grace though he was already clearly drooping and Genji had to find a wheelchair to take him back upstairs.

“I _may_ have overdid it today,” the teen admitted tiredly as Genji pushed him.

Genji snorted. “You had PT this morning and had barely gotten back to your room when you _insisted_ on coming back downstairs with me.”

“You don’t _get_ it,” Lucio groaned. “It’s so _boring_. And I have two legs now! Why can’t I use them?” He leaned his head back far enough to peer at Genji upside-down. “You know I can push myself, right?”

“You eat more than enough for someone as skinny as you,” Genji retorted but it was fond and Jesse was surprised to see such a soft side of the outspoken man. “If I don’t curb your appetite you’ll eat all of the food!”

Lucio perked up. “You’re cooking again?” he asked excitedly. “Aw, man! Wait ‘till I tell Hana!” He beamed at Jesse. “You gonna join us, cowboy?”

“Probably not,” Jesse said with a chuckle. “Don’t want to starve someone else out of a share if you have the appetite Genji says you do.”

The teen gave a loud laugh that echoed on the eerily empty halls. “He’s just teasing,” he said. “The _last_ time they cooked, we had _so much_ food. It was an option for meals for almost the entire week!”

Looking up, Jesse was surprised to find Genji blushing. “We didn’t want to run out,” he said as shyly as Jesse had ever heard him. “And we wanted to feed the entire Watchpoint – even the staff and nurses.”

Lucio patted his arm, twisting awkwardly to do so. “It’s okay, big guy. You and your brother mean well…but there was so much food that they almost couldn’t store it.” He turned to Jesse. “So _please_. Help us eat!”

His excitement was so infectious that Jesse saw Genji smile softly. “No promises,” Jesse said softly.

“You should try Ms. Ana’s food,” Genji told Lucio as they turned down another hall. This one was much better lit and the doors were different as well, spread out much more than the cramped spaces they had passed earlier. A few doors had dry-erase boards; others were blank. “It was amazing!”

Jesse listened with one ear while Genji spoke, torn between looking out the massive windows and peering at the doors. “We call this the Forgotten Ward,” Lucio said cheerfully when he saw Jesse looking around. “But only when we don’t have other visitors. It has the nicest rooms – this is actually almost an entirely separate hallway from the rest of Watchpoint. Each room has windows – big ones, too! It all faces a courtyard on the inside and the grounds on the other side of the community room.” He pointed to the doors to their right. “They used to be single rooms but they broke down the walls between them to make each room bigger and included private showers and things like that – all wheelchair-accessible, of course.” Then Lucio gestured to the walls on their left. “They modified the old nurse’s station in the middle to a big common area in case we have more guests than we can fit in our rooms. But there aren’t many of us so we usually meet in one of our rooms.”

“Orisa said that there were only a handful of people here,” Jesse commented.

“I think we’re up to three Forgottens, a few recovery patients, and a handful of other permanent residents,” Lucio said. He tilted his head back up to Genji. “Can you take me back to my room real fast? I need to get something for Hana.”

Genji nodded. “I think Hanzo’s in there,” he said, pointing Jesse to a door covered in a panel of dry-erase material. It was decorated with doodles of flowers, bunnies and video game characters and in big cotton candy colors read HANA SONG. “Ring the light and join him - we’ll be back in a few.”

Seeing his confused look, Lucio gave him a thumbs up. “Even if he’s not, I’m sure Hana will be thrilled to meet you! Just speak slowly and keep facing her.”

And then they were gone. Nervously, Jesse wiped his hands on his pants and approached the door. It was closed but he saw a small button that looked like a temporary doorbell that was augmented by a large red arrow that said PUSH ME! Beside it was a card reader like one he’d see at a hotel and a flat metal plate.

When he pushed the button he heard nothing so he tried again a moment later, pressing harder and holding it; still nothing. Then he heard Hanzo’s voice, muffled through the door. “Come in!”

Wiping his hands again, Jesse pushed open the door. True to Lucio’s word, the room was much larger than he would have expected for a hospital and he could see where it would once have been two separate rooms. The room itself had a relatively open floor, the only walls being found in half sections that seemed to separate the bedroom itself and the spacious living room. He was impressed to find a couch, a few bean bag chairs, a large TV that looked very outdated, and a few gaming consoles strewn about though he guessed that some of the personal touches were the resident’s belongings rather than Watchpoint’s.

The sleeping area was also spacious with a full-sized bed, an area to sit beside the window, an open doorway that led to a large bathroom, and dorm furniture like a desk and plain dressers. Just as Lucio said, the room was well-lit by large windows though this particular room the curtains were in cotton candy shades of blue and pink.

Hanzo himself sat beside the bed facing the door and smiled shyly at Jesse when he saw him before turning to the room’s resident and making a few strange motions with his hands. The girl on the bed looked small among the stuffed animals and fluffy pillows, her presence made even smaller by her injuries. Her head was wrapped in a bandage that covered her forehead and left eye and her left arm was wrapped in a bright pink cast. Still, her good eye sparkled with good humor and she smiled, if a little shyly, at Jesse before turning back to Hanzo and patting the top of her head with her right hand.

“She wants to know where your hat is, cowboy,” Hanzo translated with a teasing smirk. He spoke slowly, facing Hana the entire time; his words were punctuated with movements of his hands – sign language, Jesse realized. The girl was deaf. “I thought you never parted with it.”

The girl watched him intently and then turned back to Jesse. Sticking her tongue out in concentration, she made a few clumsy symbols with her right hand, contorting her fingers in strange ways before making a sign using her right arm and the awkward angle of her left. “’I am Hana Song,’” Hanzo translated. Hana pointed at Jesse.

“’Name’s Jesse, little lady,” Jesse said, unable to help the little drawl in his voice. He tipped the brim of an imaginary hat at her. “Pleased to meet’cha. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I left my hat in the car – a gentleman never wears a hat indoors.” Hanzo smirked at him but didn’t say anything.

Hana peered at him and then turned to Hanzo, tapping her lips with a pout. “You’re speaking too fast,” Hanzo explained, patting Hana’s knee. “Speak slowly and enunciate but don’t over-do it or it’ll be harder for her to read your lips.” He patted her knee again to get her attention and signed something to her that Jesse thought was a translation of what he had said. To his glee, Hanzo included the imaginary hat tip at the end, which made Hana smile. After a pause Hanzo tapped her knee and signed something else, mouthing something along with his signs.

“‘You brought the flowers?’” Hanzo translated when Hana turned to Jesse and made a few excited signs. “‘I _love_ them,’” and Hana’s gesture to the windowsill, laden with vases of flowers in jars and cups and in one case a bedpan that Jesse hoped was clean, didn’t need translating.

“Her favorites are the pink ones,” Hanzo added.

Jesse smiled. “I’m glad you liked them,” he said, trying to speak slowly and with care as Hanzo had told him earlier. “I’ll have to send Hanzo back with more next week and I’ll tell Ana they’re your favorite.”

For a moment, Hana frowned at him then tugged at Hanzo’s hands and signed something. Hanzo replied in kind, mouthing his words again as Jesse watched, fascinated. They conversed like that a few more times before Hana seemed satisfied.

“‘Getting better, cowboy,’” Hanzo translated as Hana signed something at him. Hana pointed at the flowers on the windowsill. A few of them were wilting or on their last legs; for a few, petals lay scattered beneath and around the makeshift vases and the bald hearts lay limp over the edges. She signed something sloppily and stuck her tongue out at Hanzo. “‘Unlike my flowers,’” Hanzo added and signed something playfully back at Hana; she stuck her tongue out again at him and looked at Jesse. Her pleading look, _he’s being mean to me!_ , didn’t require translation.

Chuckling despite himself, Jesse walked over and nudged Hanzo’s shoulder arm with his hip. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the suspicious look Hana shot between them as Hanzo smirked up at him. They all jumped when a panel on the wall, what Jesse had initially thought was a picture frame, flashed.

“I’ll get it,” Hanzo said, standing. It put him very close to Jesse who smirked as he stepped aside. Hana scowled at them both, a disgusted look on her face, as Hanzo walked to the door. The light flashed again as Hanzo tugged it open and Jesse realized that it was a doorbell for a deaf person: a light on the wall to flash and show that someone was at the door.

Lucio and a man he didn’t recognize wheeled themselves in. “Hana!” they exclaimed as Hanzo followed them in. Jesse tried not to stare at the new man but it was hard not to.

It looked like someone had taken some blunt instrument to his skull, which was dimpled and somewhat misshapen. Faded surgical scars wrapped like a crown around the sides of his buzzed head, turning the hairs there white and scraggly. His nose was crooked and irregular scars rattled down the side of one face, pulling his mouth strangely on that side just enough to be noticeable. He was missing the lower half of one arm and the pinky finger of his other hand and both legs at the knees.

Seeing him looking, the man smiled and waved with his mangled hand. “Hi,” he said in a thick voice. “Bas-tian,” he added, gesturing at himself. He whistled on the _s_ through a gap made by a missing canine tooth.

“That’s Sebastian,” Lucio said, looking between them with a wide smile. “Bastian, that’s Jesse – he’s the one that brings the flowers.”

“And produce,” Hanzo added. “He runs a small produce stand down the road.”

Bastian peered at him and whistled. His eyes were sharp and full of good humor, something that made Jesse feel inexplicably guilty. “Sstew,” Bastian said with a bobbing nod.

“It’s hard for him to talk,” Lucio explained and Bastian whistled again. It seemed to Jesse that it was another way for Bastian to communicate in lieu of spoken words. “You eventually get used to one-word sentences.”

“Ssorry,” Bastian said with another smile.

Jesse shook his head. “Not at all!” he said. “I’m sorry for staring,” he added quietly.

The man smiled again. It was hard to tell his age, but Jesse had the feeling that he was definitely older than Lucio and Hana. He gestured awkwardly with his whole arm as if to say, _have you looked at me?_ “Okay,” he said simply.

Looking up, Jesse found Hanzo looking at him curiously over Bastian’s head. He smiled and winked, watching as the man flushed. “YUCK!” Hana yelled too-loudly. But Jesse supposed that if she was indeed deaf, it would make sense that she had difficulty with her volume control.

Bastian and Lucio giggled. “Alright,” Hanzo said. “ _I’m_ leaving.” Despite his bright blush, he still turned to face Hana, still signed his words, and still spoke slowly and clearly. It made something in Jesse’s chest fill with warmth. “I know you have your plans.”

“Video games!” Lucio agreed and Jesse noticed that he did the same, fully facing Hana and signing. “Do you want to join us Jesse?”

Raising his hands, Jesse backed out. “ _No_ ,” he said with feeling, remembering at the last minute to face Hana. “That ain’t for me. I’ll just go out to the garden.”

Hana slapped the bed next to Lucio with her cast to get his attention and signed something to him. “Yeah! You should visit Aimi! She’ll _love_ to meet the person that brought in the sunflowers.” Lucio said excitedly.

Turning, Jesse found that Hanzo had already gone. “Food,” Bastian said simply.

“Ah,” he said awkwardly, not quite sure what he meant.

“He probably went down to the kitchen,” Lucio explained. “He’s very…”

Bastian whistled. “Bik-key,” he said, brow scrunching as he forced the word out.

“Yeah,” Lucio said. He was signing frantically, trying to keep Hana in the loop; she was looking back and forth between Jesse and Lucio’s hands. “ _Picky_ is one way to put it. But,” he said with an almost comical change of mood. It was accompanied with an equally-bright sign to Hana that nearly had him falling out of his wheelchair. “If you want to visit Aimi, she’s a few doors down to the right – you’ll see her name on the door.”

Frowning, Bastian glanced back and forth between Lucio and Jesse. “Chair,” he said with a grunt. When Jesse glanced at him, he gestured awkwardly to a corner where Jesse could see a wheelchair.

The “doorbell” flashed and everyone glanced at it then turned in unison to Jesse. “I’ll…get it?” he asked, raising his hands nervously. Bastian smiled at him as he moved to the door.

“Yo,” Genji said when he opened the door. “Did my brother leave you alone here?”

Jesse shivered. “I don’t want to make it seem like he abandoned me but…”

“But he did,” Genji said with a nod. He slipped into the room. “I got this,” he said over his shoulder and turned back to Hana. “Hana!” he said with a loud and explosive gesture. A moment later he signed as he spoke, much like his brother: slowly and awkwardly, as if they were unused to it, but with a concentration that was endearing as it was clear that they had recently learned it, most likely for Hana. “Hey booger! What’s shaking? Genji is with you!”

Lucio and Bastion giggled as Hana made a face. She signed something, awkward with her cast covering her wrist and palm of her left hand, then pointed at Jesse adamantly with her right.

To his concern, Genji was smirking when he turned. “She wants you to visit Aimi and then says that if you ever come back to her room there will be an enforced hand check to make sure you don’t do anything funny with Hanzo.”

Nervous, Jesse coughed and looked away, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Naw, man!” Lucio said between giggles. “She said that she wants them to sit on opposite ends of the room or not visit together at all so she doesn’t suffocate in the UST.”

“Fuck,” Bastian said very clearly, sending Lucio and Hana into hysterical laughter. He looked pointedly at Jesse, who began backing out of the room.

“Right,” he said as he saw tears of laughter in Hana’s eyes. Genji was making a face – while he probably found it funny, Jesse doubted he was entirely comfortable talking about his brother’s sex life, especially with a cowboy they had just met. “I’m just...a few doors down, you said?”

Bastian, chuckling, gestured to Jesse’s left down the hall. “Yes,” he said. “Meet.”

By then he had figured out that Bastian’s words were very carefully picked. “Nice meeting you too!” by Bastian’s pleased but crooked smile, he got it right. He saluted Genji and Lucio, tipped an imaginary hat to Hana and left, carefully closing the door behind him.

He took a moment to stand in the hall and cool his raging blush before moving down the hall in the direction Bastian indicated. True to their word, only a few doors down was another dry-erase board that simply said “Aimi”. The door was open, unlike Hana’s, but Jesse still knocked on the doorframe anyway.

“Come in,” a voice said and Jesse cautiously edged in, unsure why he was nervous. “Oh,” the small woman at the windowsill said. “I thought you were one of my sons.”

Jesse coughed awkwardly and tried not to fidget as she stepped out of the harsh glare of the sunlight where he could see her. “Afternoon, Miss Aimi,” he said nervously as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and began picking out her features. She was _tiny_ , the top of her head barely reaching past his shoulders. On top of that she was a thin thing, wearing her ink-black hair tied behind her head with a red ribbon. Despite her evident age, only a few strands of her long hair were silver, centered around her temples. “I’d gotten a few requests to come up and visit you. My name’s Jesse.”

“It’s a pleasure,” the woman said and Jesse realized why she looked and sounded so familiar. She smiled, looking very much like Genji, pleased and smug. “You must be the cowboy.”

Though he hadn’t seen her surname, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was Aimi Shimada – Hanzo and Genji’s mother.

Gulping, Jesse stared with wide eyes and took a nervous step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I woke up crazy early this morning to get some baking done for work. While I waited for my dough to proof I cranked out another chapter so I feel like I can post another haha. 
> 
> Genji’s nickname for Hana is kind of an esoteric joke. I like to think that he used to call her something like “Hana banana” but when she was young she couldn’t really repeat it back and would say either “Hana-bana” or “Hana-bata”. In Hawaii, hanabata means booger, coming from the Japanese word ‘hana’ for ‘nose’ and the Hawaiian pidgin-English pronunciation of ‘butter’, which sounds like ‘bata’. Hence Genji’s nickname of “booger” for Hana.
> 
> On another small side note, this chapter (unlike most of the other chapters) was not inspired by any particular song, which made it annoying and somewhat difficult to find a song to title it that would capture the nature of this chapter. It’s a sort of transition chapter but even though it’s not quite explicitly stated, the theme behind it is “coming home”. The more permanent residents of Watchpoint (which Lucio briefly calls “The Forgottens”) have nowhere else to go so Watchpoint is their home, their nurses and fellow patients their only remaining family.
> 
> Once more, thank you again for all the comments and kudos. They're very much appreciated and never fail to make me smile when I see the notifications. :)
> 
> ~DC


	6. God Made Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, Miss Aimi,” he said when he caught his breath. “I’m hardly what you’d call a ‘gentleman’!”
> 
> “You’re already much more well-behaved than my Genji,” Aimi replied.
> 
> Genji gave an exaggerated sigh. “I may as well leave, then,” he grumbled though his smile was audible in his voice. “If all you’re going to do is talk shit about me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **He needed something soft and loud and sweet and proud  
> **  
>  But tough enough to break a heart  
> Something beautiful and breakable that lights up in the dark
> 
>  
> 
> So God made girls  
> God made girls he stood back and told the boys  
> I’m ‘bout to rock your world  
> ~ _God Made Girls_ by RaeLynn

 

“I don’t bite,” Aimi informed him, tucking a lock of silvering hair behind her ear. “I feel like that’s more my son’s thing than mine.” She held out a slender hand for him to shake.

Gulping again, Jesse shook it, hoping that his rough calluses didn’t get caught on her delicate skin and worried that she’d look down to see the dirt and grit ground under his nails. To his surprise her grip was like iron, her hands as calloused as his. “Hello, ma’am,” he said awkwardly.

Still, she was elegant, lifting a long-fingered hand to her lips as if to hide a chuckle. “My Hanzo has  _ many _ good things to say about you,” she said and Jesse blushed at the suggestive undertones. “I feel like I know you already. Please: call me Aimi.”

Unsure of what to say, he bobbed his head in an awkward nod. “Did Han deliver your flower?” he asked for lack of anything else to say. He wiped his hands nervously on his jeans.

“Yes,” she said, gracefully allowing for the change in topic. She led him to the windowsill where he could see the little terra cotta pot and the flower he and Hanzo together had tucked into it. “As the grower, I’m sure you take much pride in it.” With a tender smile, Aimi stroked the little flowers. “Please: tell me how to take care of it.”

From her knowing smile, she knew the topic that would put him most at ease. After the first tense sentences, he found it easier to speak to her. She was knowledgeable about plants, discussing growing conditions, zones, and different types of fertilizer enough to make Jesse rack his brains to answer all of her questions. 

To his surprise, she didn’t only include his little  _ chicas _ flowers, but asked about the vegetables at Base and his recommendations for growing seasons and how to get rid of pests. “ _ Jesus _ ,” a voice said from the door, making Jesse jump. “How long were you two holed up in here?”

Aimi chuckled. “I believe his name is  _ Jesse _ , not Jesus,” she corrected with a teasing smile. 

As Jesse turned toward the sound of the voice, he caught sight of Genji and Hanzo, both peering into the room. Genji rolled his eyes, but Hanzo looked at his mother in concern. “Should you be out of bed?” the elder son asked. 

This time it was Aimi who rolled her eyes. “I’m old, not a  _ complete _ invalid,” she informed her eldest son. “And I was having a nice conversation with your cowboy. I like him.” 

“ _ Mother! _ ” Hanzo exclaimed, turning bright red; his brother threw his head back and laughed, nearly smacking his head on the edge of the door as he did so. 

Now that Jesse was looking -  _ really _ looking - Aimi seemed drawn and almost pale, her lips pulled tight together as if in pain. Mrs. Shimada huffed and shuffled over to the bed, accepting the arm that Jesse offered with an absent sort of nod, patting his arm. “I’m afraid I’m not as young as I used to be,” she told Jesse, not releasing his arm when he made to let go. “But it’s nice to see my boys smile again. Especially Hanzo.” She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “He’s much too up-tight.” 

“Ah,” Jesse said for lack of any other response, a light blush staining his cheeks. 

Genji rescued him with a knowing smile almost catty in its mischief. “The kids were thinking of going outside for a walk,” he said. “And it’s such a nice day, we figured that we may as well have dinner outside...as much of us that can manage it, of course.” 

There was an immediate shift in Aimi’s mood and her lips pursed, her chin tilting up. “We’ve already begun coordinating with Orisa and Athena,” Hanzo said before she could say anything. “Once we clear a space, they’re going to begin to take everyone out. Those that can’t quite manage it will be in the sunroom so they won’t be left out.” 

Jesse was tickled to see that Hanzo had inherited his very intense look from his mother, who frowned with narrowed eyes at her first her younger son, then her older. 

“We hadn’t realized that Jesse had stayed behind with you,” Hanzo added quietly and Jesse could feel his intense stare burning somewhere in the proximity of his temple but for the life of him, he couldn’t look away from Aimi, couldn’t turn more than he already had with her tight grip on his arm. 

“You’ll burn the food,” Aimi said, sounding very much like a woman sick of being coddled. 

“It’s on low,” Genji said glibly but they could both hear Hanzo sigh, a short burst of air full of affectionate annoyance. 

“We’re not making soup or stew,” Hanzo added. “The farm donated food as well. It’s all cooking low and slow in the oven. We have more than a little time before we need to get back to prepare the  _ mise en place _ for the rest of the meal.” 

Aimi huffed. “I am not an invalid,” she said, steel behind her words. As if remembering her grip on Jesse’s arm, she released it with an apologetic pat. Jesse took a knee beside her where he could look at the entire family, watch the quick play of  _ looks _ that they shot at each other, as intimate as a language of itself. He was startled to see that Hanzo was looking at  _ him _ .

“Never said you were,” Jesse interjected when Aimi opened her mouth again. “‘N I’m sure they didn’t meant to imply it.” Aimi peered at him distrustfully and once more Jesse was struck with how much like Hanzo she looked (or how much Hanzo took after his mother). “Now I don’t want to get too involved with this...it’s not my place...but I think we can reach a compromise.” 

There was a strangled noise behind him - much like an older brother had clapped a hand over his younger brother’s big mouth - but Aimi only seemed amused and intrigued. “Oh?” she asked, a hooked smile on her lips. 

Jesse swallowed hard and hoped that she didn’t notice. But if she was anything like her boys, she would have. “If you’re so concerned that they’ll burn the food, with your permission I’ll be your escort tonight,” Jesse said with an awkwardly gallant half-bow, forgetting that he had left his hat in the car when his hand was halfway to his head. 

He was surprised when Aimi chuckled. “You’ll make my Hanzo jealous,” she said, the wrinkles deepening around her eyes. “Genji, you go back to the kitchen now,” the outraged squawk behind Jesse was muffled. “I think I’ll spend some time with  _ real _ gentlemen.” 

Startled by the warm teasing - directed at  _ all _ of them - Jesse couldn’t help the loud bark of laughter, echoed quickly by Aimi’s gentle laugh and Hanzo’s strangled snort and warm chuckle. “Aw, Miss Aimi,” he said when he caught his breath. “I’m hardly what you’d call a ‘gentleman’!” 

“You’re already much more well-behaved than my Genji,” Aimi replied. 

Genji gave an exaggerated sigh. “I may as well leave, then,” he grumbled though his smile was audible in his voice. “If all you’re going to do is talk shit about me.”

The woman in front of him said something that sounded like a threat in a honey-sweet voice; Hanzo snorted as he brought around a wheelchair and toed the locks on the wheels. Standing, Jesse offered Aimi his arm with another gallant bow. She laughed and allowed him and Hanzo to help her to her feet and then down into the wheelchair. 

“These old bones,” she complained as Hanzo fetched a lumpy attempt at a knitted quilt and draped it over the back of the chair. Jesse knelt down and eased her feet into the rests and tugged the hem of her dress down to cover the sickly yellow bruising on her lower legs. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I’m too old to move.” 

Jesse smiled up at her and patted her foot absently. “I’m sure that’s a long time coming,” he assured her as Hanzo unlocked the chair. “Aside from being banged up a bit, you look as fit as a fiddle.” 

“All these silly American idioms,” Aimi said in mock dismay though her smile was beatific. Hanzo began turning the chair as Jesse lurched to his feet. “I’ll never understand them and I’ve been here for nearly thirty years!”

“Twenty-five,” Hanzo corrected automatically, a light blush dusting his high cheekbones. 

Hanzo pretended not to notice as Jesse gave him a lopsided grin. “Twenty-six,” Aimi replied. 

“If I may ask,” Jesse said nervously as he held the door open for Hanzo to push Aimi into the hall. “What brought you here? Judging by your accent…”

“Ah,” Aimi said as if embarrassed, though she only looked amused. “I was discontent with being a...what is the phrase...homewife?” She added a brief phrase, obviously directed toward Hanzo, in what Jesse assumed was Japanese.

It took Jesse a moment of thought to understand, but Hanzo was helpful enough to clarify. “Housewife,” Hanzo said, sounding amused. 

“I grew up in Fujikawaguchiko,” Aimi said. “And married a businessman in Tokyo.”

Hanzo’s lips twitched, probably sensing his confusion. “Near Mount Fuji-san,” he explained. Jesse shrugged. He obviously knew about Mount Fuji - even  _ Zarya _ knew about one of Japan’s most famous landmarks - but where exactly it was escaped him. 

“It’s in Yamanashi Prefecture,” Aimi said helpfully, though this of course confused him. “On the island of Honshu.”

Helplessly, Jesse tried to signal to Hanzo to stop; the man’s lips twitched in amusement. “Near Aokigahara,” Hanzo added. “An hour and a half’s drive southeast of Tokyo.”

“Ah,” Jesse said quickly. Once more,  _ almost  _ everyone had heard of Aokigahara, the Suicide Forest - the others at Jack’s farm knew this because the previous year had watched a horror movie that took place in that part of Japan. 

Angie still hadn’t quite recovered. 

The hallway was lit by the afternoon sun as they moved back to the main hospital building. Through the massive windows, he could see Jack and Gabe moving around the grounds, a girl he didn’t recognize shadowing them. 

“My sister is there,” Aimi said airily. “In Aokigahara,” she added for further clarification. “She didn’t take well to Tokyo.” 

Hanzo’s lips pinched in a frown but the mood was saved by the sound of laughter as Jesse opened the swinging doors for Hanzo and his mother. Lucio and Hana skidded around the corner, looking as if they were attempting to drag race with their wheelchairs. Having two working arms, Lucio had the advantage while Hana awkwardly tried to use the arm encased in a cast to push herself along after him. 

Jesse was fortunate to be at the right angle to see the tender smile flash across Hanzo’s face. He could see the soft, sad smile on Aimi’s face as well as Bastian rounded the corner. “Hi,” he said in his thick voice. With a lopsided smile, he waved at them with his one remaining hand, allowing his powered wheelchair to slow to a stop. “Food,” he said to Hanzo. 

“We’re just taking Aimi down now,” Jesse assured him, seeing that Hanzo and Aimi were focused on Hana and Lucio’s trek down the hall. Lucio literally spun circles around Hana when she stopped to catch her breath and laugh. 

Bastian followed the direction of his gaze and his smile dimmed slightly. They watched as Hanzo pushed Aimi closer to Hana and the three of them spoke to each other with their hands; Lucio rolled back to Jesse and Bastian, sweating and breathing hard. 

“Hey cowboy,” Lucio said as he slid toward him. Jesse tipped up his work boot and caught the footrest of his chair to stop him. “Thanks, man! Think I could get a ride downstairs? I’m pooped.”

“Fault,” Bastian teased. 

Lucio huffed. “Yeah, I know it’s my own fault,” he said. “But she’s been so down lately.” 

They watched as Hanzo laughed at something Hana said with her hands. “Video games not work out?”

“Eh,” Bastian said. 

“It happens,” Lucio added. “Some days we’re just not in the mood for it.” 

It was clear to Jesse that they were really talking about Hana but he didn’t say anything. “Too much video games will ruin your eyes,” he teased instead. “You know, when I was your age, I went  _ outside _ to play.” 

Bastian snorted; Lucio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay old man,” Lucio said though the mood lightened slightly. “And I bet you walked four miles to school uphill in the snow both ways.”

The raspberry Jesse blew was loud and caught Hanzo and Aimi’s attention. “ _ Hell _ no,” he said. “I  _ skipped _ school.” 

Lucio and Hanzo looked scandalized; Aimi and Bastion burst into laughter. A moment later, Hana laughed as well when Hanzo signed a brief explanation. “Out,” Bastian suggested, waving his truncated arm toward the freight elevator. 

“I ran away from home and everything,” Jesse said when he moved to push Lucio as requested. 

“ _ Chotto matte _ ,” Aimi said, signing something to Hana. She murmured to Hanzo who moved to Hana’s chair. “Let’s give Hana’s poor arm a rest.” The girl stuck her tongue out petulantly at the older woman and squealed too-loudly when Hanzo pinched it teasingly. 

Lucio gestured for Jesse to go to Aimi. “Hey Bastian, mind if I get a lift?” The man huffed thought Jesse only heard affection in his voice and watched as the two of them lashed their chairs together in a train with an ease that spoke of long practice. He remembered how Lucio had spoken earlier when they walked through the halls and wondered how long he had been at Watchpoint. 

Seeing Jesse looking, Bastian gave another lopsided smile. “Tug,” he explained, gesturing to the cords that connected the arms of Lucio’s chair to the handles on the back of his. To demonstrate, he used his remaining hand to push the chair controller forward; once the slack between the chairs diminished, Lucio was tugged along behind Bastian. “Fat,” Bastian added over his shoulder to Lucio when the whine of the engine hitched before droning on. 

“Hey!” Lucio protested. “I am  _ not _ fat.” 

“Fat!” Hana yelled from down the hall, twisting in her chair to look at them. 

Lucio groaned as Bastian’s laughter echoed in the halls. “Chair,” he said. 

“ _ Your chair is not agreeing with you! _ ” Lucio wailed and Jesse wheezed. 

He coughed, trying to appear more serious before offering yet another gallant bow to Aimi. “Well, Miss Aimi,” he said. “May I have the pleasure of being your chauffeur for the evening?” 

Hanzo’s mother smiled sadly up at him. “The honor would be all mine,” she said. 

“Ma’am,” he said quietly as he moved behind her. Down the hall, they could hear the teens bickering, laughing, and teasing each other. “It’s hardly my place, but, if you’re at all in need of a sympathetic ear, I’m more than willing to offer mine.” 

Aimi twisted in her chair to look up at him. “Go left,” she said, gesturing toward the hall in the opposite direction the rest had gone. “We’ll take the long way - they know I hate the freight elevator anyway.”

With a chuckle, Jesse heaved against her chair and began rolling her in the direction she indicated. “As good a reason as any to avoid it.” 

“Indeed,” Aimi said faintly as they rolled along. He rolled her where she indicated, taking his sweet time while they passed two more elevators which Aimi insisted were out of order. True or not, Jesse didn’t question it and they continued down empty halls. 

“It’s bigger and emptier than I expected,” Jesse commented in a hushed voice, feeling as if speaking too loudly would disturb people that weren’t there. 

Aimi hummed in agreement. “Mei told me that there was a time that all of this was funded and all of the wards were full of patients and staff. Eventually funding ran out. You’ve met Mei, right?”

Jesse nodded though she couldn’t see him. “I guess we were a little too loud when we were unloading my truck and woke her from her nap.”

The woman hummed sympathetically. “The poor thing doesn’t get near enough sleep,” she said. “They’re all overworked.” 

“My friend Angie, who works in the diner, is working on becoming a nurse,” he said. “I think she’s hoping to work here.” 

“That is not a question for me,” Aimi said regretfully. “And I’m not sure of the funding they have available, if they can hire other staff.” There was a hesitant pause. “From what I understand, a good chunk of the workers here - Orisa, Dr. Winston, Athena, and the maintenance man whose name I can never remember - actually live on the premises,” she added even though Jesse didn’t ask. “They get paid but barely - just enough for some groceries, a few small things here and there.”

Jesse thought to the yogurt cup and berries he had seen Orisa eating. Was that a part of her “allowance”? 

Leaning back in her chair, Aimi sighed deeply. It was the sigh of a person with too much on her mind and Jesse frowned down at her sympathetically. “If you frown too much, your face will freeze like Hanzo’s did,” she said dryly, tipping her head back very slightly. It wasn’t enough to see Jesse, but in the same way he could sense the slight smile on her lips, he was sure that she could sense him grinding his teeth. 

“Well, he seems to have come from good stock,” his fool mouth said before he could stop it. “If my ugly mug could look as handsome as Hanzo, I’d frown every day.” 

Aimi laughed. “It’s not in your nature,” she teased. “But I’m glad you seem to find him...to your liking.” She laughed again when the chair lurched slightly as he tripped over his own feet at her bold words. “He seems lighter in your presence,” she added. “It’s a welcome relief...I worry about him sometimes - he’s far too serious.” 

It wasn’t his place to say anything but from what little he knew of Hanzo, he could definitely see it. Still, he said nothing and they continued their leisurely pace down the halls. 

“We left Japan when Hanzo was seven,” Aimi said abruptly. “It was as I had told you earlier and why I left had never been a secret to my boys.”

“Speaking from experience,” Jesse told her quietly. “Transparency is always appreciated down the line, even if it’s not immediate.” 

Aimi hummed. “I’m glad we’re in agreement, Mr. McCree.” Despite her strong accent, she was able to pronounce his name well, even if the double ‘c’ came out harsher than was typical. It was more evidence to Jesse that supported her assertion that she had been in the US for quite some time - not that he doubted her story at all. “My boys are good - they’ve never given me cause to believe they hate me for my decision to leave their father in Japan. The opposite is true, in fact and it makes me worry that instead of teaching them freedom, I have instead taught them hate.” 

“I may not know them very well,” Jesse said quietly as they ducked through a new archway. “But there ain’t a single hateful bone in their bodies.” 

“Perhaps,” Aimi said. “But my separation from Kichirou...it wasn’t pretty.”

Jesse slowed the chair to a stop in front of the elevator Aimi gestured imperiously toward. “Separations never are,” he offered. “It’s like a part of you is missing no matter the reason for the break.” 

“I wanted more out of life than to just be a housewife,” Aimi said as the elevator dinged. The doors opened before the car had completely stopped moving, making Jesse frown. “It always does that,” Aimi told him before he could ask. “It’s better than the freight elevator only in that this one does not smell like cleaning supplies and formaldehyde.”

He backed her carefully into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, watching nervously as the doors rattled shut. “I ran away from home,” he offered quietly. “When I was...shoot, I think I was only ten, maybe eleven. My Ma had just died - she’d been sick for a long, long time...as long as I can remember. Pa had worked his butt off to provide for us. Half the time I skipped school so I could stay at home and take care of Ma.”

“Where did you grow up?” Aimi asked gently as the elevator buzzed for the next floor. 

Jesse shrugged, even though she couldn’t quite see him in the scuffed plastic wood facade on the inside of the doors. “I don’t much remember,” he said and neither of them mentioned his blatant lie. “Ma died and Pa...couldn’t handle it. The sunflowers were hers and were all I had left of her until Pa tried to burn it down, destroy it all.” Aimi made a sympathetic noise. “I gathered what I could and ran away. Turns out that same day Pa died at work. It was kind of fitting though. That kind of love...it was good that they were apart for only a short period.” 

The elevator buzzed again and Jesse wondered absently if it was a deliberate sound or if the speakers that caused the noise were malfunctioning. The car rattled slightly but continued downward. 

“I had not meant to get so serious,” Aimi admitted after a moment of awkward silence. “I apologize, Mr. McCree.” 

“Please call me Jesse, ma’am,” he murmured, watching nervously as the doors once more opened before the car had stopped moving. When the car finally slid to a stop with a gut-churning rattle and thump, Jesse carefully pushed Aimi through the doors and took her direction down the halls. 

Soon Aimi’s directions were no longer needed as they could hear the laughter of the others echoing off depressing empty halls. Aimi looked up in surprise at him as he ducked into a side hall and stopped, coming around to kneel in front of her. 

He looked at her for a moment, taking in her rigid posture. She was like a queen carved of granite: hard, unmovable, dignified. “Now ma’am,” he said, holding out his hands for hers. “Aimi,” he amended with a roguish smirk when her lips pinched downward in a frown. “I don’t pretend to know...the whole story, nor would I ask it of you to tell little old me, a stranger you just met. But whatever reasons you had to do what you did are your own.”

“We are not divorced,” Aimi said though Jesse wasn’t sure why. 

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug, drawing a confused look from the older woman. “I...don’t much remember my own parents but on the really bad days Pa used to tell me that God made girls to be soft and loud and sweet and proud but tough enough to break a heart. Someone’s gotta be the one to cry, to wake him up and call his bluff.”

Aimi stared at him for a moment and it took everything Jesse had in him to stay quiet while she gathered herself. “That is very kind of you to say,” she said at last. “Perhaps your father is right.” 

“Only right thing from him I ever remember,” Jesse replied with the detached air of someone that had been through hate and back. “Sometimes the best decision is only slightly better than the rest of a bunch of shitty choices. But sometimes somebody’s gotta be the one to put a fight and sometimes it has to be the stronger of the two.” 

“Hmm,” Aimi said, so much like Hanzo that Jesse was hard-pressed to not smile. “It is something I will have to think about.” She said. “But you’re wise...for a cowboy.” 

Jesse chuckled, squeezing her hands. “Shoot, ma’am,” he said, deliberately deepening his accent just to watch the wrinkle lines around her eyes deepen as she chuckled. “Don’ me ‘spectin’ nuttin’ more fancy, now,” he said as she tugged a hand back to cover her mouth demurely. “I’m jus’ a simple cowboy that don’ much like horses.”

He watched her chuckle over his words, relieved to see that she was relaxing her steel spine into something more resembling a human. “Aren’t you a silly thing?” she teased as she eased herself back in the chair, relaxing against the padded back. She patted Jesse’s hand. “You’ll be good for him.” 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Jesse ducked away from Aimi’s piercing stare - another thing Hanzo had inherited from her. Not knowing what to say, Jesse squeezed her hand back and stood up again, groaning as his back and knees protested. 

Aimi chuckled again as they began moving, far too knowing for Jesse to be entirely comfortable. If any of the others in the garden noticed Jesse’s blush, they didn’t comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter too much but it's kind of a necessary chapter moving forward. Also, when I wrote it I forgot that Papa Shimada has a canon name so I ended up calling him Kichirou here. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all of your kudos and comments. 
> 
> ~DC


	7. Sold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They drove for a few minutes in silence until houses gave way to fields and Base rose up out of the darkness. “As a kid I used to pretend I was the captain of a ship,” he found himself telling Hanzo, checking for cars behind him before slowing down along the empty road. “’Ree and I would drive through the fields and in the distance we could still see it.”
> 
> “Like a lighthouse,” Hanzo said, leaning forward to peer through the windshield at the golden glow of the house. The sides were illuminated by floodlights and only because Jesse knew what to look for, he could see the lights from the Barracks as well, casting their own soft glow. “Calling you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I went down to the Grundy County Auction  
> When I saw something I just had to have  
>  **My mind told me I should proceed with caution  
>  But my heart said go ahead and make a bid on that**
> 
> And I said  
> Hey pretty lady won’t you give me a sign  
> I’d give anything to make you mine o’ mine  
> I’ll do your biddin’ and be at your beck and call  
> I’ve never seen anyone lookin’ so fine  
> Man, I gotta have her she’s a one of a kind  
> I’m going once, I’m going twice, I’m sold  
> ~ _Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)_ by John Michael Montgomery

In the end, Jack and Gabe called back to Base to tell Ana that they and Jesse would not be back for dinner - the patients had wheedled and begged until they finally agreed to stay for the Shimada brothers’ cooking. 

This was not to say that they weren’t out of work; no, Jesse was press-ganged into helping Orisa carry out large trays of food and begin serving the patients while Gabe and Jack played waiters. Only when everyone had been served were they allowed to eat but taking their cues from Hanzo and Genji, they didn’t tuck in immediately, instead walking up and down the aisles of patients to help those that needed it. 

After the patients had eaten, they had to be returned to their rooms, their medicines doled out (though, of course, the nurses did this), and more or less put to bed. It took a lot of time and he could tell it tried Gabe’s patience, especially since they could both  _ smell _ the food that according to the patients that could say so, was  _ heavenly _ . By the time they were “allowed” to eat, the late summer sun had nearly slipped completely beneath the horizon. 

As a treat and a thank-you, the on-site staff invited the Shimada brothers, Jesse, Gabe, and Jack to their cottage to have a late dinner and dessert. There they found that at some point during the day Orisa had made a dish she called  _ funkaso _ , a dish that reminded Jesse of a thick crepe or thin pancake served with Cool Whip, honey, and fruit jams for dessert which they all shared to great delight between bites of dinner. 

There, Jesse got to meet the maintenance man, Torby and the woman in charge of all of the payments and accounting, a well-dressed but harried-looking woman named Satya though most were too tired to make much conversation. They offered tired nods and took their food to their rooms. 

Since Hanzo had left his car at Base and had ridden over to Watchpoint with Jesse, there was a few moments of awkwardness while they decided how he should get back. “ _ I’m not dealing with this _ ,” Gabe complained in Spanish. “ _ You have space in your truck - _ I’m _ going back with Jack. _ ”

“ _ There are a few extra rooms at the Barracks, _ ” Jack said lazily. “ _ I trust your discretion. _ ” 

Orisa snorted but when the three of them glanced at her, she shook her head, wiggling her fingers through her braided hair as she let them loose from their ties and began taking the beads out. 

Jesse sighed. “Alright,” he said to Hanzo in English as his bosses walked to the farm truck. “Y’all can ride back with me to pick up your car. Or with your brother,” he added though he hadn’t wanted to remind him on the option. 

“He’s overbearing when he drives with me,” Genji complained as they also walked to their cars. 

“ _ Communication is the key to any relationship _ ,” Orisa said in heavily accented Spanish as she waved goodbye to them. Dr. Winston and the other staff that had joined them had already wandered off to their beds. “Goodnight,” she added in English, not fooling anyone that she was teasing Jesse in some way. 

Jesse grunted, fighting the blush that rose to his cheeks. The outside lights blanched everything, so he just had to hope that the brothers didn’t notice but from Hanzo’s curious look and Genji’s wicked grin, they did. Mercifully they didn’t say anything, following him to his truck. 

“It’s late,” Genji said almost leadingly; Hanzo squinted at his brother. 

Distractedly, Jesse patted his pockets for his keys. “Not too bad,” he said. “How far of a drive you guys got?”

There was such a pointed silence that Jesse looked up; Genji looked smug and Hanzo wasn’t quite looking at him. “Not far,” Hanzo said. 

“Only an hour,” Genji added and Hanzo squinted at him. “Almost two with the construction.” 

From Hanzo’s glare, it wasn’t something he had wanted Jesse to know. “Shoot,” he said, finding his keys and tucking them in his palm. “I can’t rightly send you off if you’re gettin’ back after midnight,” he said. “If you need a place to stay, we have extra rooms at the Barracks.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Hanzo said with a blush high on his cheeks that was visible even in the bright outdoor lights of Watchpoint. 

“Better than getting back at ass o’clock,” Genji countered cheerfully. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he added with a sincere smile. 

Jesse shrugged, mashing the button to unlock the door until he heard the tell-tale click of the locks. “Not at all,” he said. “I think they’re having a movie night but the rooms are reasonably soundproof so if you want to go to sleep, they shouldn’t bother you too much.” 

“Should we bring anything?” Genji asked as Jesse fiddled with his phone, texting Ana and Jack to let them know that the brothers were going to stay over at the Barracks. 

“Naw,” he said. “I’m sure we can scrounge up some sleep clothes and extra supplies for you if you don’t have have any.” He smiled. 

To his surprise - and probably not-so-secret glee - Hanzo said, “Could I ride with you? Genji drives like a man possessed.” His brother muttered something in Japanese that sounded far too smug and teasing, turning to walk toward his car in the front lot. 

“Anything for you, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, pleased to see Hanzo smile shyly back at him. 

Jesse couldn’t help the pleased grin on his face as he climbed into the cab and started the truck. It didn’t seem that Hanzo was much better off but neither of them commented on it. The ride was spent in comfortable silence and if Jesse didn’t have to shift gears, he would have been bold enough to reach for Hanzo’s hand where it lay teasingly on the armrest. 

But once more it seemed that Hanzo was the braver of the two and bridged the gap, resting his calloused fingers lightly over Jesse’s wrist. 

Shyly Jesse flipped his hand and entwined their fingers…then accidentally mashed the back of Hanzo’s knuckles into the gearshift when he had to change gears. “Sorry,” he said, immediately releasing his hand and nearly stalling his truck for the first time in  _ years _ . “Guess that was a bad idea.”

Hanzo wiggled his fingers in front of his chest and said nothing, a blush high on his cheeks.

They drove for a few minutes in silence until houses gave way to fields and Base rose up out of the darkness. “As a kid I used to pretend I was the captain of a ship,” he found himself telling Hanzo, checking for cars behind him before slowing down along the empty road. “’Ree and I would drive through the fields and in the distance we could still see it.”

“Like a lighthouse,” Hanzo said, leaning forward to peer through the windshield at the golden glow of the house. The sides were illuminated by floodlights and only because Jesse knew what to look for, he could see the lights from the Barracks as well, casting their own soft glow. “Calling you home.”

Jesse shot him a quick grin as they turned onto the dirt road leading to the stand. It looked sad and empty and Jesse tried not to look too closely at them as he maneuvered his truck up the gravel driveway. “I used to love going out into the fields late at night,” he told Hanzo. “There aren’t many lights out here save Base and Barracks so the stars are  _ gorgeous _ .” Feeling emboldened by the way Hanzo craned his head against the window and windshield to stare up into the indigo sky, he added, “Maybe if you’re out here late again I’ll take you.”

Passing under the floodlight – swarmed by moths and other insects that cast tiny shadows – he could see the flush on Hanzo’s cheeks and his shy smile. “I’d like that,” he said and Jesse’s lips felt as if they would tear from smiling so wide.

He drove the truck quietly to the back lot, pulling into the spot marked with a crudely painted cowboy hat on a plywood board nailed to the hitching post. “We all got our signs,” he mumbled, not quite embarrassed, as Hanzo chuckled beside him. He pointed to Zarya’s spot beside his.

“A big black dot?” Hanzo asked incredulously.

“Ah,” Jesse said as they climbed out. “Well Zarya’s a sweet lady but art is  _ not  _ her strong suit. She had been  _ trying _ to paint a dumbbell – she used to do weightlifting professionally as a young girl or so she told us.”

Hanzo grunted. “I knew it,” he mumbled to himself.

“Well, the dumbbell didn’t come out so well,” Jesse continued with a wink as he locked the truck and boldly took Hanzo’s hand. He beamed when the man’s fingers wiggled between his and gave the captive limb a gentle squeeze. “So we made do and turned it into a black hole.”

“What others are there?” Hanzo asked so Jesse took him down the rows of the small parking lot, explaining the story behind each sign. Gabe had shrieked like a little girl when a tyto had dropped from the darkness to chase a hare that he had scared up late one night; unfortunately half of the farm had seen it so the stylized, bone-white face had replaced whatever Gabe had had previously. Rein’s spot was marked by a sledgehammer because the first time he had elected to help chop wood, he had accidentally grabbed the sledgehammer instead of the axe and had pulverized more than a few blocks before realizing his error. Later he had said, “ _ I had  _ wondered _ why the swing felt off _ .”

Ana’s was a dainty porcelain teacup of tea and had been for as long as Jesse could remember; Fareeha’s was the eye of Horus framed by two blue wings; Angela’s was a pair of golden wings bracketing a gold and silver halo. Though Hanzo hadn’t interacted much with Hog when they had gone to pick up the donation of meat for Watchpoint, he could recognize the reasoning behind the cartoonish pig. Visitors – including Hanzo, who had moved his car there before driving with Jesse to Watchpoint – were allowed spots with a “V” painted in a rainbow of colors.

At Hanzo’s quiet request, Jesse took him around the edges of Base to show him the greenhouses and other planting spaces. Then he showed him the little path that took them through the small parking lot to the looming structure of the Barracks. Squeezing Hanzo’s hand reassuringly, Jesse let go to throw open the doors and release the wall of sound that was the community room.

“ _ Hanzo! _ ” Angela yelled, throwing her arms over her head when she saw the man.

Jesse chuckled as he ushered Hanzo in and closed the double doors behind them. “Sounds like Angie’s drunk.” Angela’s yell drew everyone’s attention and they smiled and waved per their natures. “What’s up?” Jesse asked. “What about me?”

“You are chopped kidneys!” Zarya boomed from where she and Rein were locked in an arm wrestling match.

“Liver,” Ree said from where she was refereeing the game. “It’s ‘chopped liver’.”

Zarya grunted and gained an inch, her impressive biceps bulging. “Liver, kidney, it’s all offal.”

From where she was draped over the back of the couch, Angela wheezed as she laughed. “Mom says you and your brother are staying over,” ‘Ree added to Hanzo over the cacophony of noise. “We set up a few of the guest rooms already but we thought we’d wait for you guys to arrive to see if you wanted to join us.” To Rein, she said, “I saw that, old man, no cheating!”

Hanzo seemed honestly surprised. “Join you?”

“That’s right,” Jesse said, rubbing his forehead. “Movies, drinking, and sometimes late-night hikes in the fields; if we have enough sober people – or sober-enough people – we ride around on the ATVs too.” He gestured to a stairway hidden out of sight and Hanzo obediently began walking after him. “Figure I’ll show you where you’re staying and then you can decide.”

“Room six!” Angela yelled and a moment later the common room erupted in yells.

Jesse chuckled. “Sounds like one of them won,” he told Hanzo, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Sorry for all the chaos, but I promise the rooms are a lot quieter.”

He nearly jumped when Hanzo’s fingers brushed his wrist but smiled back at the man. “It’s quite…”

“A bit much, huh?” Jesse asked, entwining their fingers. He tugged Hanzo gently so that their arms were hooked at the elbows and Hanzo’s side was pressed to his from shoulder to hip.

“I wasn’t expecting so much noise,” Hanzo admitted. “Isn’t it late for farmers?”

It took a moment for Jesse to realize that he was joking and in that time Hanzo’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “Bless my heart, darlin’,” Jesse said with a soft chuckle, tugging Hanzo closer to his side. Daringly he let go of Hanzo’s hand and snaked it instead around his waist. “You’re something else.”

“Oh?” Hanzo teased, still blushing, as they reached the top of the stairs. He rolled his shoulder, tucking himself more firmly against Jesse. “What am I, then?”

Jesse chuckled warmly, boldly inserting himself into Hanzo’s space, twirling the other man with his hand on his hip until they were almost forehead to forehead, a few scant inches separating them. “Must be some kind of angel,” he said. “Or some kind of devil.” 

He jumped, surprised that of the two of them Hanzo was the boldest, as two large arms wrapped loosely around his waist, tugging him closer. The press of large hands on his back was chaste and yet the teasing paths his fingers drew on the muscles of Jesse’s back were the most erotic thing he’d ever felt. 

“Devil?” Hanzo teased, a quirk of a smile appearing on his lips. 

Jesse hummed, crowding Hanzo against a wall and bracketing him there, pinning him between his arms on either side of his wide shoulders. “Something like that,” he murmured, voice husky. Behind them, shouts from the common area crested and they both jumped as if shocked. 

From Hanzo’s pocket, a too-sugary pop song blared and Hanzo looked pained. “It’s Genji,” he said and Jesse backed up, swallowing and looking away as Hanzo fished the device out and answered in a pinched voice. 

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand when Hanzo was done speaking sharply into the phone in Japanese. Jesse coughed awkwardly. “This way,” he said, gesturing down the hall. “Let’s show you your room.” 

Hanzo blushed as he followed Jesse down the hall though they still couldn’t help but brush shoulders and hands as they did, teasing with such chaste touches after such bold advances. “This is nice,” Hanzo said awkwardly as they walked, coming out into a sort of open-air balcony that opened into the common areas. From there they could see the assorted couches and tables where the rest of the group was gathered. From Rein’s posturing, he had won the arm-wrestling contest. 

Coughing awkwardly, Jesse nudged him with an elbow. “Yeah,” he said and gestured to the balconies that circled the common rooms like a courtyard. “We got a lot of rooms, actually. Most of the downstairs ones are the guest or storage rooms and as you can see, the center is all the rec areas.” Jesse gestured to the rooms they passed, which all had a plaque on the door. Some were decorated; some weren’t. “Most of us Strays are up here if we live in the Barracks. Each has their own bedroom and bathroom suite.”

“Like a hotel,” Hanzo teased. 

“Something like that,” Jesse replied, nudging his elbow into Hanzo’s. They stopped at a door that had a small brass key sticking out of the deadbolt. “Here you are, darlin’. Room six.” He twisted the key and opened the door, wiggling it out of the lock and handing it to Hanzo. It hung from a small keychain with a metal horse with its hooves extended. On one side were the words  _ Giddy-Up _ engraved and painted with black enamel. 

Hanzo’s fingers brushed his as he took the key. “I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” he teased, wiggling the metal pendant teasingly. 

“Hell, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, a blush rising on his cheek. He coughed and changed the subject. “My door’s just down there,” he said, pointing. “I think I’m gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll head on downstairs to join their movie night - if I’m not there to provide good taste, they’ll pick on something silly.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to look over the balcony, paranoid that his friends were watching them. “You know where to find me if you need me - don’t be shy, now.” 

The other man ducked his head. “I wouldn’t call it ‘shy’,” he said slyly. “But thank you for the invitation.” 

Jesse chuckled. “Some kinda devil,” he teased, daring to step closer into Hanzo’s space, pleased that he didn’t back away, tipping his head to look up at Jesse. Moving slowly so Hanzo could move away if he wanted to, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s lips. 

It had been his intention for the kiss to be chaste - a quick peck of the lips - but Hanzo moved  _ quickly _ when he wanted to and dragged Jesse closer by his belt loops. The key and pendant in his hand dug uncomfortably into Jesse’s side but it was worth it the way his other hand tangled in his flannel shirt and held him close. Jesse’s bulk and the angle they were at blocked his friends’ view of them and he boldly tucked his thumbs under the hinge of Hanzo’s jaw tilting his head up and back so he could deepen the kiss. 

Pressed as close as he was to the other man, their hands gripping skin and clothes alike, Jesse startled when he felt a short buzz against his thigh.  _ Pika-pika! _

Hanzo snarled and really, that sound shouldn’t have been as hot as it was and Jesse gulped. “Go, cowman,” he said roughly and this close Jesse could see just how much of his eyes were swallowed by his pupils. “Before my brother catches us.” 

The reminder of the younger Shimada made Jesse grunt. He darted down to steal another quick kiss before backing away. Staring at Hanzo’s wet, kiss-swollen lips, it took a herculean effort to not dive back in for more; from the way Hanzo gripped the frame of the door, he felt similarly. 

“ _ Room fifteeeeeen! _ ” Angela’s drunken, accented voice called from the direction of the common area. “ _ Reeeeeeiiiin, can we open a hotel? _ ”

Jesse coughed, forcing himself backwards, away from the living temptation that was Hanzo. “Sounds like he’s here.” He helpfully pointed across the courtyard like space where in the light of the hallways he could just barely make out a carrot-shaped keychain hanging from one of the doors. “For the record,” he added huskily. “Room fifteen’s over there.” 

“It is not  _ I _ that is the devil,” Hanzo rumbled, watching him back down the hall. “That offers such temptation.” Then he ducked into the room and closed the door. Jesse whimpered to himself as he turned and ducked into his own room, fumbling with his keys to unlock it. 

_ God _ he needed a cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this song so much even with the probably-creepy underlying tones of possession implied by the lyrics. 
> 
> In any case, thank you for all of those that left a comment! It was really exciting for me to take a break from work and find notes from you guys. Since it was a slow day, I managed to pump out another chapter and get started on another (sorry _jefe_....) so I feel safe in posting this one haha. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. I love hearing from you so please let me know what you think, if there's any questions you have or suggestions! I write better and faster with feedback (unless you're my cat in which case I could use with LESS "feedback" and more "sleeping quietly", thank you) :P
> 
> ~DC


	8. What Was I Thinkin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew there’d be hell to pay  
> But that crossed my mind a little too late  
> ‘Cause i was
> 
> Thinkn’ ‘bout a little white tank top  
> Sittin’ right there in the middle by me  
>  **I was thinkin’ bout a long kiss  
>  Man just gotta get goin’  
> Where the night might lead  
> I know what I was feelin’**  
> But what was I thinkin?
> 
> ~ _What Was I Thinkin_ by Dierks Bentley

 

When Jesse emerged from his room, freshly showered, he found Hanzo leaning against the railing and peering over the edge into the common area. Their frankly alarming collection of movies was spread out on every flat surface and heated debates were in progress with the occasional yell in the speaker’s native tongue. From the piles that were beginning to gather, the debate was nearly over.

“Bunch of barbarians,” Jesse said, nudging his hip against Hanzo’s.  

The other man jumped, his own hair still wet but tied messily in its topknot. He was dressed in borrowed clothes that Jesse recognized as his own – a worn flannel shirt whose sleeves strained against his large biceps and a well-worn pair of jeans that had the hems rolled up to compensate for Hanzo’s shorter legs.

“I hope it’s alright,” Hanzo said shyly, seeing the direction of his look. “I found some clothes on the bed in my room.”

Jesse wasn’t too ashamed of his choked sound. “I’m not sure if I should thank or murder ‘Ree,” he told Hanzo. “You’ll be the death of me yet, darlin’; you look far too good in my clothes.”

“These are yours, then?” Hanzo teased and Jesse could see the horse keychain hanging from one edge of his pocket; the rest of the keys were secured by a carabiner that hooked through a belt loop and were safely tucked away into the pocket itself. He took a bold step closer to Jesse, angling himself so Jesse’s thigh pressed into his hips. “I’m sure it would look much better on the floor.”

It took everything in him to not drag Hanzo back into one of their rooms. “Some kind of demon,” he muttered, running his nose along Hanzo’s forehead. “You better be careful, though; you keep teasing me like this and I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.”

Hanzo’s grin was wicked as he stepped back out of Jesse’s space but the distance revealed the flush that raced down his cheeks and neck. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

“ _ Are you two done flirting? _ ” Zarya roared from below and they jumped.

Looking down, they both found the massive pink-haired woman staring up at them with her ham-sized fists on her hips. Angela was still draped over the couch and had ensnared Fareeha into her drunken tangle of limbs. At some point Genji had evidently arrived and had his phone out and pointed at them.

Seeing their stare, the younger Shimada smirked and wiggled the phone. “ _ I’m sending this to mom! _ ” he yelled up.

Jesse had never seen anyone run so fast: one moment Hanzo had been beside him and the next he seemed to have materialized downstairs and all but tackled his brother. Zarya moved out of the way and watched with interest while Fareeha tried to do the same, dragging the drunken octopus that Angela had become with her. Shaking his head – but unable to hide the goofy grin on his face – Jesse made his way down the stairs and into the common area.

“We narrowed down the choices,” Ana said from where she had been hiding on one of the loveseats, far enough away from the wrestling brothers that she was out of the way but close enough for her to watch them with a sharp eye. Her grin was wicked, as was Gabe’s.

Narrowing his eyes at them, Jesse moved toward the small kitchenette tucked into a corner. The alcohol had already been laid out and the mixers tucked into coolers of ice, a double bottle of Arbor Mist nearly empty already; Rein had written in his large blocky script a list of beers – bought or made – that were found in the fridge. A box from the local liquor store on the counter caught his eye. It was clearly Genji’s contribution, if the pretty twisting bottles of TyKu sake and a green glass bottle of Soju were any indication.

“I’m parched,” Genji said from behind him and Jesse stepped aside, digging in the fridge for a beer. “You a sake man, cowboy?” he asked peering at the other liquors on the counters.

Jesse opened the beer with a quick twist of his wrist using the corn-shaped bottle opener nailed into the wall. “I’m not gonna answer that,” he told the green-haired devil, using his other hand to point accusingly at him. “I feel like it’s a trap.”

“Smart man,” Hanzo grumbled, looking rumpled and disgruntled. His dark eyes flicked to Jesse who took a sip from his beer to keep from asking who won; he had the feeling that it hadn’t been Hanzo.

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Jesse said instead, pointing to the fridge. “And alcohol out. Cups are over there,” he added, pointing to the neat rows of plastic glassware tucked in a corner.

Genji made a pleased noise when he saw the unlabeled bottles of beer in the fridge. “Home brew?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Rein makes ‘em. They’re hit or miss sometimes – either delicious or tasting like paint thinner. It’s a gamble.” He grunted. “Hurry up and get your drinks – they’ll be calling the final vote for the movies soon.” As he was about to leave, he ducked back in and grabbed a few more drinks. “Grab more than one – depending on where you sit, it may be hell to get back out for more and we always watch a movie with a drinking game.”

He left the brothers to it, amused to hear them bickering quietly to each other in Japanese. There were buckets of kettle corn and taffies brought back by one of the volunteers from the shore and Ana’s [vegetable bites](http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/bbq-cauliflower-wings-3348138).

“I saved a bucket for you,” Ana said needlessly, as a large paper bucket was decorated with cowboy hats, had his name written on it and had been tucked next to his usual spot. There was a roll of paper towels next to it as per custom as the bites tended to be as messy and sticky as buffalo wings.

Jesse leaned down to kiss her cheek as he passed. “Thanks,” he said.

They waited patiently for the brothers to return and get settled. It wasn’t lost on Hanzo  _ or _ Jesse that there were conveniently no other places for the elder Shimada to sit besides the empty spot next to Jesse, or that Genji and found a spot next to Fareeha and Angela on their couch. Due to Angela’s inebriation,  _ of course, brother _ , there was no more space there.

Still, Jesse couldn’t complain as Hanzo tucked himself next to Jesse with one of Rein’s unlabeled bottle of beer and the entire bottle of sake. When Hanzo saw Jesse’s amused look, he shrugged unrepentantly.

“We ready yet?” Zarya demanded.

“She takes movie night very seriously,” Jesse whispered to Hanzo when he flinched. “Don’t think nothin’ of it.”

Jack grunted from where he had been leaning against the wall beside the controls for the projector. With their crew, it had been inefficient to use the TV for movie nights so they had managed to hook up a projector and a good-quality screen to make it more of a movie theater so that everyone could see. Over time they had acquired speakers and other accoutrements that made movie night into a proper experience.

It was also one of the few times that Ana made her veggie bites, so of course everyone looked forward to it.

So reminded, Jesse leaned forward and grabbed the bucket, tucking the roll of paper towels between their hips. Hanzo jumped, surprised, and looked over as Jesse offered the bucket to him. “Chicken?” he whispered.

Jesse shook his head with a smirk. “Better,” he promised. “Be careful though, they’re sticky and addicting.”

“We narrowed the selection down,” Jack said as Hanzo reached for a bite. Hanzo’s eyes cut up to Jesse as he brought a piece to his mouth. The innuendo was there without him saying anything and Jesse nearly choked on air; Hanzo licked the sticky sauce from his fingertips with a smug smile. “I’ll read the five selections first and then on the second time around, we’ll vote by raising hands – one hand per person,” he added with a severe glare at Gabe who smirked. “ _ It _ .”

“Which one?” Genji demanded. “The original or the remake?”

Jack grunted. “We have both; if it wins, that would be a secondary vote.” Appeased, Genji leaned back on the couch and fell silent. “ _ Aliens _ – the secondary vote would be which of the series we watch,” he added when Genji opened his mouth again.

Beside him, Hanzo reached for another veggie bite. “Good, isn’t it?” Jesse whispered, dipping his fingers into the bowl. Hanzo’s reply was to rub a sticky line down his cheek and into his beard.

“ _ Pet Sematary _ ,” Jack continued.

“Y’all picked a lot of Stephen King movies,” Jesse observed, scrubbing at the sticky spot in his beard while Hanzo looked smug beside him as he chewed on another bite.

Ana and Gabe gave him identical smug looks from where they sat across the room. “ _ Take the hint, _ ” Ana said in Spanish; Jesse made a face at her.

“We just want to hear you squeal like a little girl,” Fareeha teased.

“He  _ does _ ,” Angela said to Genji, loud in her inebriation. Someone had fetched the double bottle of Arbor Mist from the kitchen and placed it in front of them on the coffee table.

Jesse huffed but did nothing to defend himself; it was true enough.

“ _ Mirrors _ ,” Jack continued. “A new addition to our collection courtesy of one Genji Shimada.”

Genji stood and flourished bows to the room. With a loud scoff, Zarya rolled her eyes but it was all for show; when Genji feigned indignation, she stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s  _ good _ shit right there,” he declared as she sat back down.

“He’s been trying to get me to watch that for  _ months _ ,” Hanzo grumbled quietly to Jesse. “Take this way or I will eat all of it,” he added, shoving the bucket away.

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Jesse teased but obeyed, putting it on the end table beside him and offering a wet wipe he found in the glass jar there.

Jack sighed. “Last and certainly the least,  _ The Shining _ .” There were protests at that, mostly by Genji and Zarya who insisted it was a classic and by Gabe and Ana just to be difficult. “Any questions?”

Immediately, Angela and Rein’s hands shot up. “Ladies first,” Rein said.

“I have  _ no _ idea what any of these are about,” Angela complained.

“We read…actually we never really read any of  _ these _ novels,” Rein said, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t think we  _ touched _ on Stephen King.”

Ana grunted. “With good reason.”

“But you should know them,” Genji protested. “They’re  _ classics _ .”

“Not  _ Mirrors _ ,” Hanzo informed him loud enough for the whole room to hear. “That was your own bad decisions from the $5 Target bin.”

Genji looked mockingly scandalized, throwing himself backwards over Fareeha’s lap where he was immediately shoved off. “Betrayal!” he cried from the floor where he landed with a heavy  _ thump _ .

From his position beside the projector, Jack sighed. “ _ Alright _ ,” he said loudly before an argument could break out. He wiggled a DVD in the air so that the disc inside rattled. “ _ It _ : demonic child-killing clown.” He picked up the next one, a black and green box set. “The  _ Aliens _ franchise:  _ in space, no one can hear you scream _ . Killer aliens,” he added with a pointed look at Angela who gave him a goofy thumbs-up.

“Drunk Angie’s  _ hilarious _ ,” Jesse whispered to Hanzo. “Enjoy it while you can – it’s like finding Bigfoot.”

“I’m beginning to see,” Hanzo replied with a quiet chuckle. 

Jack dug around the narrow shelf that had the DVD player for the next option. “ _ Pet Sematary _ : cursed Indian burial ground brings things back to life; surprise: they’re evil.”

“‘Indigenous peoples’, you barbarian,” Gabe said loftily. “I swear we can’t take you  _ anywhere _ .”

Ignoring him, Jack picked up the next DVD case with a snow-covered lodge on the front. “ _ The Shining _ : psychic psycho-kid and his family spend the winter trapped in a hotel built on an  _ indigenous peoples’  _ cursed burial ground.”

“Was it?” Genji interrupted. “I thought it was just haunted or something.”

Gabe grunted. “It’s  _ always _ on a burial ground or some shit,” he said. “It’s a trope.”

“ _ Trope! _ ” Angela repeated with a drunken giggle as she poured herself another glass of Arbor Mist.

“I did not realize Danny was a  _ psychopath _ ,” Ana teased.

Jack sighed. “ _ Haunted for whatever reason, _ ” he said. “For reasons that are probably explained in the long, slow, incredibly drawn out movie where things happen that make absolutely no sense.” He paused. “And the kid is a creepy little shit.”

“To be fair, a lot of movies are like that,” Jesse pointed out. “The ‘make no sense’ part, not necessarily the ‘kid is a creepy little shit’ part though that comes up pretty often.”

“ _ Name one! _ ” Jack challenged. “That movie makes  _ no sense _ !”

Ana chuckled across the room. “I think he’s talking about the pet-play blowjob scene,” she said in an almost-whisper to Gabe and Rein that wasn’t quiet at all. Next to Jesse, Hanzo snorted into his drink and began coughing. “To be quite fair, it  _ is _ a rather odd choice of scene.”

“Don’t ruin it!” Genji exclaimed as he tried to scramble back up without knocking over the table. “Hanzo’s never seen it!”

“It doesn’t sound like I’m missing much,” the man muttered as he recovered poured himself more sake.

Jesse shrugged, nudging him gently so that he didn’t knock over his glass. “It’s a pretty ‘okay’ movie but Jack’s right, it’s real strange.”

“ _ Hush! _ ” Zarya boomed from where she sat, taking up a loveseat with her muscled bulk. It was a trap to sit next to her even if she made room; she took movies very seriously so anyone within arm’s reach would be mercilessly – and usually forcefully – quieted. “What is last one?”

“ _ Mirrors _ ,” Jack said, picking up the last DVD. He took a quick moment to read it.

“Demon-possessed mirror,” Genji offered from where he managed to pull himself up. He was just in time to see Fareeha steal his bottle of soju and take a cautious sniff. “Hey!”

Jack grunted. “Alright, there you have it. Killer clown; series about killer aliens; evil burial ground bringing things back to life; evil-haunted hotel; demon-possessed mirror. I’ll give you a minute to think about it and then we can vote.”

With a groan, Jesse reached for the bucket of veggie bites and brought them within Hanzo’s reach; the other man cast him an almost disappointed look but it didn’t stop him from reaching for more. “I’m almost disappointed it’s all horror.”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo replied. “But it could be worse; at least we have company for it.”

Chuckling low in his throat, Jesse nudged Hanzo’s shoulder with his. “If you get scared, I’ll hold you,” he murmured teasingly, made bold by Hanzo’s presence and obvious affection.

Hanzo gave him a sly grin and licked his finger free of the sticky sauce that coated the bites. “And I’ll do the same for you, cowboy,” he teased.

“Couldn’t ask for more,” Jesse chuckled, offering him another napkin.

“Put those away,” Hanzo added, pushing at the bucket with a sticky hand. “Or we won’t have any for the movie.”

“Okay,” Jack said as Jesse obeyed. “Time to vote.” When Jesse shivered, not liking  _ any _ of the choices or what they meant for his quality of sleep that night, Hanzo tucked his free hand between them where no one could easily see and entwined their fingers. Hanzo squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

* * *

In the end they voted on  _ Mirrors _ and  _ It _ , much to Jesse’s not-so-secret distress. Since Genji had been the only one to see  _ Mirrors _ before, he was in charge of coming up with rules for the drinking game with others making suggestions based on their guesses of horror movie tropes.

Jesse gulped his beer, slowing down a little when Hanzo squeezed his hand again. When the lights were shut off in the main room and everyone’s attention turned to the screen, they shifted around on their couch until they were comfortable, careful to not make too much noise as they did. It led to Jesse being propped up by the arm, his long legs stretched out across the cushions; Hanzo tucked himself against his torso, his head resting on Jesse’s sternum. A bucket of popcorn, the bucket of Ana’s veggie bites, and their drinks were on the low table next to them where they wouldn’t be in the way of their view of the screen but were within lazy reach. Throughout the opening of the movie, Hanzo didn’t let go of his hand, sending warmth blooming through Jesse’s chest.

Early in the movie they switched drinks and kissed the taste –  _ quietly _ , so Zarya wouldn’t throw anything at them to shut them up – from the other’s lips. Hanzo’s weight and warmth was soothing but didn’t chase away  _ all _ of the scares and in many ways the alcohol they imbibed made it worse. Still, his fleeting kisses against Jesse’s fingers and the press of his back against Jesse’s chest made it not as bad – the drinking game as well, as Genji would occasionally warn them ahead of time that a drink-worthy event was coming up.

When  _ Mirrors _ was over, they turned the lights back on. Rein had fallen asleep at some point, his large head pillowed on Ana’s lap. She sent him to bed and walked with Jack and Gabe back to Base, claiming that the “oldtimers” were way up past their bedtime. Jack grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue, shuffling sleepily after her and Gabe.

They chattered amongst themselves as they refilled their snacks and drinks and settled down for the next movie. By then Jesse and Hanzo had given up all pretenses of sitting separately and curled up in their previous stacked position together. Hanzo tucked himself higher this time, resting his head against Jesse’s collarbone so he could lift a hand to rub against Jesse’s scruff and along his neck. 

Jesse hummed when Hanzo found the curve of his jaw with his fingers and brushed along the skin of his neck. He shivered, tightening his arms around Hanzo’s trim waist when the man brushed his fingers teasingly along his neck again.

“Darlin’,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against the shaved hair at Hanzo’s temples. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

He didn’t need to see Hanzo’s wicked grin as he arched back and wiggled his entire torso against Jesse’s. It would have been hotter if Hanzo wasn’t drunk, his head and upper body wobbling as he moved around, but the pressure and heat were still there, and there was still an incredibly gorgeous man so obligingly draped between his legs. Jesse clung to Hanzo’s trim waist, fingers boldly lower entirely on accident as he struggled to get a hold of himself. 

A jumpscare from Pennywise the Dancing Clown allowed him to get a hold of himself but Hanzo howled and nearly fell off of the couch. Genji’s cackling from the other couch made Jesse flush and he tried not to make too much noise in his disappointment when Hanzo sat up and wiggled out of his grip. 

Hanzo poured himself another drink but instead of draping himself between Jesse’s knees, maneuvered them so that he was tucked under one of Jesse’s arms and pressed against his side. 

“Scared, darlin’?” Jesse teased in a breathless whisper as he obligingly tugged Hanzo closer. 

Even in the dim light from the projector, Hanzo’s drunken flush was evident. Jesse wasn’t surprised, given the amount of sake the man had imbibed but far be it from him to lecture another on their vices. “Not with you here,” he whispered back, miraculously quiet despite his clear inebriation. 

Jesse leaned down and kissed Hanzo’s cheek, earning him a loose smile and a kiss that burned and tingled from the sake still fresh on Hanzo’s lips. Boldly he lifted Hanzo on his lap, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and resting his chin on one of those large shoulders. As close as he was, Jesse could smell the lemongrass shampoo that Jack and Ana bought in bulk and the acrid tingle of alcohol.

After a moment of shifting to get comfortable, Hanzo leaned back into an artless sprawl, looking down his regal nose at the projector screen as he tilted his head back. Jesse very pointedly kept his hands chaste, resting them on Hanzo’s waist, tightening when either of them stiffened in fear and pressing soothing kisses to Hanzo’s cheek and neck when he squirmed as the movie continued. 

Likewise when Jesse tensed up or jumped, Hanzo entwined their fingers and twisted drunkenly to smack a wet kiss into Jesse’s cheek. “You okay?” Hanzo whispered when Jesse jumped at the sudden appearance of a yellow balloon. It wasn’t the quietest - Jesse could hear Angie and Genji giggling from their couch, followed quickly by Zarya’s impatient  _ shush! _ \- but it was sincere and Jesse appreciated it. 

“Never better,” Jesse whispered back through gritted teeth, burying his face in Hanzo’s cheek on the side facing away from the large screen. 

On the screen, It says in a distorted voice, “ _ it’s true what they say, we all float down here and you will too;  _ in fact they all float they all float they _ - _ ”

Jesse whimpered when he looked up a few minutes later and saw a drowned boy on the ground beneath a bed. “Alright,” he whispered. “This is rightly freaking me out.” 

“Clowns are creepy,” Hanzo agreed as someone in a clown suit appeared with a snarling dog for a face and head. He brought one of Jesse’s hands to his lips and kissed it. “Can I do anything to make it better?” The tip of his tongue stroked up Jesse’s thumb from wrist to tip. It was too wet, Hanzo too drunk to make it neat so a thick line of drool dripped down his hand, but it still made Jesse shiver. “Sorry,” Hanzo whispered, running a finger along his damp skin to wipe off the spit. 

Shivering, Jesse pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. “You’re drunk, Han,” he teased, able to focus on  _ this _ instead of the movie. 

“Mmm,” the man agreed. He kissed the inside of Jesse’s wrist. “I wouldn’t have the courage otherwise.” 

That raised red flags and Jesse pulled his hands away. “No,” he said and wrapped his arms firmly around Hanzo’s ribs. The man wiggled in his grasp “No,” he repeated softly, pressing his lips to his cheek.

Hanzo looked away, becoming tense in his arms. “Forgive me,” he said, trying to sit up. “It was too forward of me.” 

“No,” Jesse murmured back. “But I won’t do this when you’re this drunk.” 

In his arms, Hanzo shook but Jesse tugged him back. “Forgive me,” Hanzo repeated. 

“Nothing to forgive, sweetness,” Jesse told him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I could use a bit of liquid courage myself some days but...I don’t want to be moving too quickly. Whatever...we...are...I want us both to make the call of sound mind.” 

Hanzo wiggled, arching his back in a feat of gymnastics that only a drunk person could achieve when Jesse gave a breathy wheeze when his hip pressed into his sensitive bits. Jesse bit back another groan as Hanzo squirmed so he was lying face-to-face with Jesse, thoughtfully holding himself up in a shaky plank. With gentle tugs to Hanzo’s ribs, Jesse tugged the other man until they were pressed together from chest to groin. 

Still, Hanzo looked nervous though it was hard to tell with how flushed he was. “You don’t need to,” he mumbled. “You can just say ‘no’.”

Jesse ran a thumb over Hanzo’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his nose. “How about ‘not right now’?” he asked. “Because...believe  _ me _ darling...it’s not a matter of not wanting.” To punctuate his statement, he arched his hips a little into Hanzo’s and the other man swallowed hard.

“Can I kiss you?” Hanzo asked and Jesse chuckled quietly, tilting his face up with a crooked finger beneath his chin. 

“Always, darlin’.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My family only drinks TyKu Sake. Meanwhile I go for the lychee flavored stuff that costs like $7 a bottle. 
> 
> _Mirrors_ is a real movie and a real mistake I made in the Target $5 bin.
> 
> Once more, thank you for all the kudos and comments. Knowing that it's being enjoyed is a good incentive to keep writing and posting this! :)
> 
> ~DC


	9. Last name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get a new tire swing?” she asked, pointing to the thick rope and the tire leaning against the twisted trunk.
> 
> Jamie laughed like a hyena, short bursts of sound that rose in an almost hysterical crescendo. “Naw, tha’s for Bacon.” His eyes – perpetually wide and very blue – darted to their left toward the window to the kitchen.
> 
> Almost immediately, Hog’s head jutted out, making the white curtains bordered with tiny embroidered pigs flare out. “Say Bacon one more time!”
> 
> “Looks like you’re in a spot of trouble yourself,” Fareeha said cautiously as they climbed the steps to where Jamie was waiting for them. Hog gave a raspy growl before ducking his head back through the window and slamming it shut.
> 
> “Naw,” Jamie said with another giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today, I woke up, thinkin’ ‘bout Elvis, somewhere in Vegas I’m not sure  
>  How I got here, or how this ring on my left hand just appeared  
> Outta nowhere, I gotta go, take the chips, and the Pinto, and hit the road**  
> They say what happens here, stays here,  
> All of this will disappear, but there’s just one little problem
> 
> I don’t even know my last name  
> My momma would be so ashamed  
> It started off “hey cutie, where you from?”   
> And then it turned into “oh no, what have I done?”  
> And I don’t even know my last name
> 
> ~ _Last Name_ by Carrie Underwood

 

The next morning, he was brought out of a disturbing dream of a dog that had his mother’s sunflower petals growing like a lion’s mane from its neck by a sound that reminded him of  [ someone tapping a cardboard box with drumsticks ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sENM2wA_FTg) . A moment later his groggy brain recognized it as music and the bed shifted.

Then he was shoved off the edge and he woke fully just in time to hit the ground.

“ _ Ow! _ ” he protested from the floor, his legs still tangled in the blankets. Looking down (up?) at his feet, he wiggled them until they were free and rolled himself to his knees to peer over the edge of his bed and find the force – be it good or evil – that pushed him out of his comfortable bed at ass o’clock of the morning.

He saw nothing in his room but the sound of music faded and in the distance a door closed. Groaning, Jesse pushed himself back into bed and buried his face in the pillows. But, exhaustion aside, he was awake so he rolled out of bed once the stinging from his fall faded away and got ready.

On his way out of the shower, he stepped on something – cold and sharp – and yelped, nearly falling over again. It was a set of keys hooked to a carabiner and a nylon cord with a crudely-stitched blue dragon – the kind you would get at a cheap novelty store. Picking it up, he looked it over. Of course he recognized the steel plate engraved with the bucking bronco and the little brass key but the key fob attached to three brass keys and four silver ones with a rainbow of colored rubber covers to distinguish them to their owners were unfamiliar.

Shrugging, he pulled on his work jeans for the day, tucked his own keys in one pocket and slid the strange ones in another and pulled on a shirt as he left. There was really no reason for him to lock his doors in the Barracks – no one came back here and to all appearances it was simply an old-styled red and white barn. Regardless, some did – like Zarya, who was an extremely private person – even though the main doors were electronically locked during the day as additional security and dead-bolted during the night. Just because they were in the middle of the farm didn’t mean that there weren’t weirdos out there that would try to sneak in anyway.

He was climbing the back steps to Base when the window by the kitchens opened and Ana poked her head out. “ _ You’re having breakfast with Hog _ ,” she said without preamble in Spanish. “ _ Say nothing and get going; he knows you’re on your way _ .”

Still groggy, Jesse grunted, accepting the tumbler of coffee she handed him through the window. With a mocking salute, he stumbled off toward the ATVs. It was the fastest way to get to Hog’s shack and though he was still half asleep, he was more than awake enough to drive and operate one.

“Wait,” ‘Ree said with a wide yawn. She had her own tumbler of coffee in her hands and looked just as rumpled as Jesse felt. Yawning again, she settled on the saddle behind him and leaned against his back. “I’m going back to sleep now,” she declared as he started the engine. “If I fall off, let me be.”

Jesse chuckled but obligingly drove slowly through the predawn morning. Despite her words, Fareeha stuck to his back like a burr, both of them too used to riding and driving ATVs to be too scared of falling off despite their exhaustion. “Where you off to?” Jesse asked as they approached the first fork.

“Hog’s,” Fareeha mumbled between his shoulder blades. “With you; Mom said so.”

Humming, Jesse turned the ATV to the right; the crude wooden sign created more as a joke than as something of use was a scarecrow with crossed arms so it pointed in both directions. In one hand the scarecrow held a plastic meat cleaver with a plastic limb from last year’s Halloween decorations – faded from being in the sun for a year – hanging from a plastic cord around its wrist.

“Do you know why?” Jesse asked as they turned out of the fields and onto the driveway to Hog’s shack.

Of course it wasn’t  _ really _ a shack, they just called it that. It was a farmhouse near the livestock pens and the barns that housed actual animals rather than people that looked like something out of a horror movie. From the outside it looked abandoned and dilapidated but from the inside it was warm, kept immaculately clean, and incredibly homey. Since they were children, Jesse and Fareeha thought that Hog and his roommate had to be witches or warlocks to have such a strange house.

But they had always liked good food and Hog was a surprisingly good cook for all he took up most of the space in the kitchen.

“Get in a spot of trouble?” Hog’s roommate Jamie asked when he met them on the veranda. Jamie was always a strange case much like the house he and Hog lived in: he was effeminate for a man and masculine for a woman so it was hard to even tell what gender he actually was. When cautiously asked once, Jamie had only shrugged and didn’t seem to mind either pronoun anyway so everyone gave up. His hair was just as confusing, defying gravity and seeming to vary between black roots and blonde tips and blonde roots with black or brown tips from ash or mud. Unlike Hog he spoke with an Australian accent though his voice was high and whining – and his laugh had a manic edge to it.

Jesse waited for Fareeha to slide off the ATV before he dismounted and turned off the engine. “I  _ guess _ ,” he said, taking his tumbler of coffee from the woman. She seemed to have perked up a bit from the ride and inspected the lone tree in the house’s yard.

“Get a new tire swing?” she asked, pointing to the thick rope and the tire leaning against the twisted trunk.

Jamie laughed like a hyena, short bursts of sound that rose in an almost hysterical crescendo. “Naw, tha’s for Bacon.” His eyes – perpetually wide and very blue – darted to their left toward the window to the kitchen.

Almost immediately, Hog’s head jutted out, making the white curtains bordered with tiny embroidered pigs flare out. “ _ Say Bacon one more time! _ ”

“Looks like  _ you’re _ in a spot of trouble yourself,” Fareeha said cautiously as they climbed the steps to where Jamie was waiting for them. Hog gave a raspy growl before ducking his head back through the window and slamming it shut.

“Naw,” Jamie said with another giggle. His grin almost seemed too wide but after years of knowing him it didn’t creep Jesse out quite so much as it did before. In some ways Jamie reminded him of a scarecrow’s too-wide, frozen smile. “We saw a pig on the Internet. Chris P. Bacon. Of course,  _ I _ was all for renaming the kids but Mako’s not a fan of the idea.” It took them both a moment to remember that Hog’s name was actually Mako and not Hog.

They entered the house and were greeted by the swollen face of one of their pot-bellied pigs. It snorted when it saw Jesse and Fareeha but nudged affectionately at Jamie’s knees when he approached and scratched its hunched neck.

“Morning,” Hog grunted as he waddled into the dining room on heavy feet. He was a big man with a big belly and a face only a mother – or, perhaps Jamie…no one was sure what their exact relationship was – could love. At first Jesse had been terrified of this stony-faced man that sometimes did the butchering on the farm but despite his work and size and frozen face, Hog was a gentle soul.

Not all of their animals were destined for slaughter, after all: many of them were sold young to be raised as pets or to other farmers to increase variability among their herds. Hog took care of the smaller animals, from chickens to pigs to goats and helped Gabe and his crew with the larger livestock like horses and calves when needed. Really, they needed his bulk and strength on the ground which he was fine with.

One memorable evening when Jesse had run away from Base, Hog had confided in him that he didn’t much like horses and not a lot of them cared for him in return. He then took Jesse to meet the piglets with their tickling snouts and the kids that bounced and leaped around their pens despite the late hour. It was a distraction until Ana could come and collect him and by then Jesse had calmed down enough to be more willing to go along with her.

Jesse waved back. “So why were you sent down here?” Jamie asked, setting out utensils. He had to hop over the pot-belly in his way but his long, lanky limbs served him there. “We just got a call from the Captain asking to host you for breakfast?”

Where Jamie climbed over the pot-belly, Hog just nudged it out of the way with a tree trunk-sized knee; with a put upon grunt the pig waddled over to a pet bed in the corner and settled its great bulk there. Another pig poked its head around the door to the living room and gave a small squeal but at Hog’s gesture it ducked away. “Eggs,” Hog said shortly as he placed the big bowl of scrambled eggs with vegetables on the table.

“Made some breakfast sausages too,” Jamie piped up. “I’m gonna warm some tortillas on the stove – want any?”

“No,” Hog grunted, pushing Jamie back with a massive hand on his chest. “You’re not allowed on the stove.” As Jamie whined, Hog spun around and lumbered back into the kitchen.

Sitting at the table, Jesse took a deep sip of his thermos. It was a blend of coffee that he didn’t recognize but couldn’t say he minded – most likely to push him quicker out the door Ana had dipped into Jack and Gabe’s stash. “What did you do?”

Jamie huffed sitting down like a sulky child though by the twist of his lips it was all for show. “We have gas burners,” he said as if that explained everything.

“He started a grease fire,” Hog growled from the stove. “Then tried to pour water on it.”

They all winced. “It was  _ outside _ ,” Jamie whined. “And it was on  _ purpose _ – I wanted to see what would happen. I know  _ better _ than to pour water on a grease fire!”

Hog grunted not unlike the animal he was nicknamed after. In the corner, the pot-belly echoed his grunt and punctuated it with a snort as if reprimanding Jamie too. “Almost hurt Daisy,” Hog grumbled. “So he’s not allowed in the kitchen.”

It was the most he’d spoken to them in a long time as Hog wasn’t a particularly chatty person. “So…” Fareeha said leadingly. “You don’t know why we’re here either?”

“Not that we’re not glad to be,” Jesse added quickly. “No one makes sausages quite like you.”

Jamie giggled and Jesse made a face at the unintended innuendo. “Naw,” he said instead, graciously not teasing him for it since it seemed that Jamie was as curious as Jesse and Fareeha were. “The Captain called and we just gave the okay. Did she tell _ you _ anything, big guy?”

Putting down a plate piled with tortillas warmed on the stove, Hog shrugged and said nothing.

“Fat load of help  _ you _ are,” Jamie teased, snatching one of the hot tortillas and dropping it on his plate.

Hog grunted and the pot-belly pig stood up. “Milking the goats,” he said gruffly as he slid out the door, the pig on his heels.

“Well, there you are,” Jamie said as he built himself a breakfast burrito of monstrous size. “I don’t know, you don’t know, and if Mako knows anything, he’s not saying.”

“Thank you for having us, though,” Fareeha said as she made her own plate.

Jamie smiled, for once without his typical manic edge. “It’s nice to have company,” he admitted. “Even unexpected company.” They ate in silence for a bit, Jamie surprising them with how serenely quiet he could be. Granted, he made a lot of noise as he ate and did so messily like a child, but he didn’t talk their ears off, letting them enjoy the dawn sunlight.

About half an hour later Hog came back with a bucket of goat’s milk that he put on the counter before joining them at the table. “Cheese,” he said simply as he helped himself to food.

Mouth full, Jamie nodded. “Ain’t nothing like fresh goats cheese,” he said, food stuffed into his cheeks like a chipmunk. “I’ll bring some to you when it’s done. Or maybe I’ll find a knot already done and send you back with it.”

Intrigued, Jesse and Fareeha began peppering them with questions. Was the yeast they used the same as the yeast you got in the grocery store for bread? How did they store the cheese? Did they stretch it? How did they make the curds?

Jamie seemed tickled to answer them and they spent another half hour talking about the cheeses he’s worked on and the recipes he’d been experimenting with. They were all top secret, of course, but he shared the concepts and flavors he was going for. As Jesse and Fareeha helped with the dishes – only fair since Hog and Jamie hadn’t really been expecting them to drop by despite their insistence otherwise – they heard tires in the driveway.

With a grunt Hog got to his feet, the unnamed pot-belly pig lumbering after him, and walked outside. “That didn’t sound like mom’s car,” Fareeha said from the sink. She peered out the window. “I don’t recognize that car.”

“Clients don’t usually come up this way,” Jamie said from the stove where he was warming the goat milk in preparation for the his “culture mix” to be added. It seemed that it was a regular thing for Hog to ban him from the stove for any reason but in the end, even Hog couldn’t deny that Jamie needed the stove to make the cheese. “Whoever it is, Mako’ll straighten them out.”

The door opened a few minutes later as Jamie was about to pour the mixture into the pot while Jesse and Fareeha watched over his thin shoulders. “Hey,” Genji said from the door, looking like a toothpick compared to Hog’s great bulk. His smile was strained but Jesse couldn’t be sure if it was from Hog’s proximity or for some other reason. “You didn’t by chance find a set of keys in your room, did you?”

Reminded, Jesse patted down his pockets and fished out the keys he had stepped on earlier. “These? I meant to bring them to the mess but Ana sent me out here.”

Genji’s lips pressed thin. “Yes,” he said, an odd tone in his voice. “Thank you.”

“They’re yours?” Jesse asked as he handed them over.

“My brother’s,” Genji said tightly.

Jesse cocked his head to the side. “Guess he forgot it?” he asked hesitantly. “He wasn’t in my room this morning.”

“You don’t remember?” Genji asked dangerously, his face strangely blank.

Well aware that Fareeha, Hog, and Jamie were all still present, Jesse scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “I mean, I wasn’t  _ that _ drunk. This morning was a bit rough. I fell out of bed and nearly tripped over those keys there when I got out of the shower.” Seeing the look on Genji’s face, he frowned. “It sounds like we’re having two different conversations here. What are you thinking I forgot?”

“You slept with my brother,” Genji snapped.

Jesse blinked. He took a deep breath, lifted a finger and said, “ _ No _ .” Genji looked taken aback at the sharp tone. When he opened his mouth to say something, Jesse continued, “He was plastered as all hell and I wasn’t about to do that.”

“ _ He woke up in your bed _ ,” Genji retorted.

To their surprise, Hog made a sound not unlike a rasping growl. “You must have a low opinion of Jesse to believe him capable of such,” he said in one of the longest and most eloquent sentences Jesse had ever heard from him.

“I put him in my bed,” Jesse admitted. “Because he wouldn’t let me take him to his. Then he wouldn’t let me go so I could sleep on the couch and I guess I fell asleep like that.” Thinking back to how he woke up, Jesse frowned. “I guess he pushed me out of bed when he woke up and ran out the door. Is that really what he thinks?”

Genji scowled. “Thanks for the keys,” he said, turning on his heels and stomping out the door.

“Twat,” Jamie muttered, stirring the goat milk absently, the mason jar of culture still full in his free hand. “Hope their car breaks down.” Outside, Genji’s truck started and turned down the driveway.

“Sorry,” Jesse said around a thick throat, going back to the sink. He lifted a pile of dirty dishes into the sink and submerged them. “You guys didn’t need to hear that.”

Hog grunted, lumbering off through the dining room; his porcine shadow huffed and followed, its cloven hooves clicking against the tile. “No,” Jamie agreed. “But we’re glad we were there to be your witnesses. Wasn’t your fault, mate – they all just jumped to conclusions.”

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, Jesse went back to the dishes and Fareeha wandered over to hover next to him, ostensibly to dry the ones he washed. “I wouldn’t do that,” he muttered to the sink and the suds there burbled back. “I thought he’d know that.”

“He was pretty plastered last night,” Fareeha pointed out gently. “Not that it should excuse him, but I’m sure that if he wasn’t hungover he wouldn’t have thought that.”

Shaking his head, Jesse shoved his hands under the water for the next dish to be cleaned and swore violently. “Can’t take ya anywhere can we, mate?” Jamie asked dryly from the stove when Jesse pulled up his bleeding hand.

* * *

Orisa looked unimpressed when they wandered in through Watchpoint’s main doors, but Jesse was sure that she rarely looked impressed at all. Her honey-colored eyes dropped to the bloody rag wrapped around his hand and she sighed heavily. “Of course,” she muttered but her eyes were kinder than her tone implied. “This way,” she said, leading Jesse down a hall he wasn’t familiar with. Fareeha followed behind him, looking just as nervous in the shadow of this massive woman.

If Orisa really did want to murder them, even with Fareeha there Jesse was sure she’d succeed easily.

But the nurse – dressed once more in scrubs decorated with sunburst and triangle patterns though today her theme seemed to be red, purple, and copper like a sunset – led them to a clean examination room. Briskly she pulled a crepe paper covering over the bed and gestured for Jesse to sit there while she gathered supplies, washed her hands thoroughly, and slipped on a pair of gloves.

“Um,” Fareeha began hesitantly.

“I am a registered nurse and emergency medical technician,” Orisa said without looking at her as she rolled the stool forward so she could lay Jesse’s hand on a small table built on a rolling stand in front of her. “Once Watchpoint operated as a proper hospital as well as a recovery ward, which is why we still have these rooms. Just be glad that last year we removed the posters.”

Jesse looked away as Orisa lifted the towel and tutted when she saw the cut made by the knife submerged in Hog’s sink. He winced when she wiped it away with antiseptic, twisting his hand to get a better look at it. “I didn’t know that,” he said tightly, looking up and away from the nurse.

“I was a nurse for a child,” Orisa replied as she cleaned the wound. “I needed to be certified for any eventuality that may befall their precious angel so her parents paid for me to do so while the Mrs. was pregnant.”

“That was kind of them,” Fareeha said hesitantly. Orisa hummed noncommittally. “What I was going ask earlier was…isn’t there process?”

Orisa hummed, dabbing gently at Jesse’s hand. “Yes,” she said. “At other places. I know Jesse well enough even if I don’t know  _ you _ so I don’t mind doing this for him.” To Jesse, she said, “It’s a deep cut but not deep enough to need stitches or staples. I’ll bandage it up for you and you can go to the store to get gauze pads and the like – I’ll show you what you need, too. This is going to sting,” she added belatedly as she began to clean the wound with vigor.

Someone knocked on the door and Jesse looked up, ready for a distraction and brightened when he saw Lucio leaning on his crutches in the doorway. “Hey,” he said in a strangled squeak. “What’s up?”

“We saw you pull up,” Lucio said, looking sympathetic as Bastian and Hana wheeled into the doorway, both waving silently to him. “What happened?”

Orisa grabbed his wrist with a hand like an iron vice and held him still as she mercilessly cleaned the sluggishly bleeding wound. Despite his best efforts his hand and arm still twitched. “Cease your resistance,” Orisa told him firmly.

“Aw,” Jesse said, trying to obey the nurse. “I got gored by a wild boar.”

He didn’t need to look at Fareeha to know she was rolling her eyes. “He dumped a knife in the sink, forgot about it, and stabbed himself the next time he dunked his hand in.”

Orisa’s honey-colored eyes were bright as lasers up close. Her disapproving gaze was on him for only a few seconds but it felt like hours; she turned away and scrubbed at his hand again in what felt like punishment. Bastian gave a short bark of laughter which Hana echoed when Lucio finished translating for her.

“I’m Fareeha,” the woman said. “This idiot is my brother. You must be the troublemakers I heard about.”

When it was translated for her, Hana shook her head vehemently, signing something back to Lucio who laughed. “‘No, those are my brothers,’” he translated. “I’m Lucio, this is Hana and Bastian.”

“Hi,” Bastian said cheerfully with a wave of his truncated arm. If he was ashamed or embarrassed by Fareeha’s staring, he gave no sign and it was depressing to think that he could have simply gotten used to it. “Knife?”

Jesse made a face as Orisa wiped away the disinfectant and blood. “Wasn’t my best moment,” he admitted. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen but usually I can at least  _ not _ stab myself.”

“I’m beginning to think that you’re just hopeless in general,” Orisa said dryly. “Watch carefully how I bandage you – you’ll need help for this for a day or two and then you can progress to lighter bandages.” Obediently, Fareeha angled herself around to peer over the nurse’s shoulder. “Keep the bandages dry and free of dirt and let the wound air out once in awhile so it doesn’t stay wet.”

“I thought you want to keep it covered,” Fareeha said curiously.

“ _ No! _ ” Bastian and Lucio exclaimed vehemently before Orisa could reply.

The nurse looked amused. “Bad,” Bastian said.

“Yeah,” Lucio agreed. “It can promote infection if you keep it  _ too _ wet so you want to let it air out once in awhile. Let it get some air but don’t let it dry out or it’ll make the scarring worse.”

Fareeha glanced at Bastian who shrugged and pointed at his right leg with one of his remaining fingers. “Leg,” he said though the gesture didn’t really need clarification; she looked nauseous.

“Sepsis is vile,” Lucio added. “So’s MRSA.”

Patient and steady as ever, Orisa continued to wrap Jesse’s hand in gauze. “Gauze pads are pretty cheap at CVS,” she told him. “I like the plastic coated ones because threads and fluff don’t get caught in the wound and it’s easier to peel off when it gets sticky. You can purchase fabric tape and use that to secure the edges. You’ll have to be careful because the cut is in an awkward spot that does a lot of moving around as you move your hand which is why I like to wrap it but again, you have to be careful to let your hand breathe.”

“A glove?” Fareeha suggested.

“Not a good idea,” Orisa said as she wheeled back and peeled her gloves off and dropped them in the biohazard bin. “Latex doesn’t breathe too well so your hand will start to sweat and we talked about keeping your wound dry. Short-term it will be okay but I wouldn’t say more than a half hour or so.”

Jesse wiggled his fingers and winced when his wound pulled. “Thanks Orisa,” he said as he hopped off the table. “How much do I owe you?”

“A bottle of hydrogen peroxide is $3 at the store and the gauze is less than ten,” the nurse said dryly as she washed her hands. “I didn’t do anything too crazy. If it hurts, find a bottle of ibuprofen but be careful because depending on the active ingredients it can be a blood thinner.” Seeing them about to protest, she shook her head. “Once a week your farm donates fresh produce,” she told them quietly. “Though we try our best, we can’t always get the quality of food that you give us and with the Shimada brothers coming to cook on the weekends, the patients have never been so happy and so well fed. It’s the least I can do to clean and bandage your wounds to thank you.”

Before any of them could respond, Orisa left. “Proud,” Bastian said when she was out of earshot.

“She is,” Lucio agreed, translating for Hana who nodded belatedly. “She doesn’t like to be thanked.”

Jesse caught Bastian’s eye as he turned to stare after the nurse. “Old,” the man in the chair murmured and didn’t elaborate. If Lucio or Hana understood, they didn’t say.

“Let’s go to the garden!” Hana said a little too-loudly.

“Deaf,” Bastian explained simply to Fareeha.

“Yeah,” Lucio said. “Let’s show you the garden! Unless you need to be somewhere?”

Fareeha shrugged, looking at Jesse. “Are the Shimadas here?” The three patients eyed them then traded glances; Hana signed something to the two of them that they didn’t translate. “If they are, we should head back to the farm.”

“No,” Bastian said firmly, backing his chair out. “Come,” he added.

“Can I help you, little lady?” Jesse asked with a gallant bow to Hana. He remembered to speak slowly and enunciate at the last minute and was rewarded with her brilliant smile. She pointed at his bandaged hand. “I’ll be careful, promise.” Hana regarded him with teasing suspicion, making the ubiquitous “I’m watching you” gesture before gesturing for him to push her. Chuckling, Jesse obeyed.

Fareeha and Lucio followed behind as they followed Bastian’s motorized chair down the empty halls. “It’s so quiet,” Fareeha said wonderingly. “It’s disturbing.”

“We basically can’t watch horror movies, ever,” Lucio agreed. “Unless we plan on sleeping where we are with all of the lights on. As Orisa said, it used to be a full working hospital and a recovery center…in addition to other things in the past. But federal funding for it dried up so Watchpoint had to adapt accordingly. Most of the patients here are the easy ones to care for: the old, the ones like me and Bastian, that sort of thing. We don’t require a lot of supervision except to be sure we don’t get any more infections and eat our vegetables and have a place to stay.”

Jesse traded a glance with Fareeha. Leaning back, Hana tugged on Jesse’s sleeve and pointed to the floor-to-ceiling windows ahead. “Sun,” Bastian said from the head of their train.

“The sun room,” Lucio said at the same time. “Wanna go into the gardens with us? Or do you want to stay inside?”

In the end they all sat outside in the morning sun. The volunteers from Jack’s Farm had cleaned off the concrete fountain in the middle so they all sat on its rim to watch the reflection of the sun and clouds in the rippling water.

When everyone was distracted, Jesse looked up at the rest of Watchpoint, his eyes burned by the reflection of the sun in the glass windows. He wondered if Aimi was behind one of them, if the Shimada brothers were even at Watchpoint, or if they had gone home, wherever home was for them. Jesse swallowed a lump in his throat and his hand ached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some trouble lately working on this because I've been growing increasingly distracted with preparation for NaNoWriMo but I know if I put this on hold there's a chance I may never finish it haha. 
> 
> BUT I managed to pump out two more chapters and get them all fixed and edited from the snippets I did at work so I may post two this weekend, depending on my motivation to do so haha. 
> 
> As ever, thank you for all of the comments and kudos! I like going on break and finding all of the email notifications and they're a nice thing to come home to! I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying this. 
> 
> ~DC


	10. It Ain't My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because I know to do so would be against your nature,” she told him. “And you honestly like him. _Courting_ him would make you happy and that’s all I want.”
> 
> Swallowing hard, Jesse looked down at his bowl. The two remaining eggs stared back at him like accusing eyes drenched in blood-red sauce. He poked one of the eggs and watched the golden yolk split in zig-zagging fractal patterns over the surface of the sauce. “I like him,” he admitted quietly to Ana. “A lot. More than just for his looks.”
> 
> “I’m only blind in one eye,” Ana said dryly, taking a serene sip from her tea. “You don’t need to tell me how attractive he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame the heart for the hurtin’  
> Blame the hurtin’ on the heart  
> Blame the dark on the devil  
> Blame the devil on the dark  
> Blame the ex for the drinkin’  
> Blame the drinkin’ for the ex  
>  **Blame the two-for-one tequilas for whatever happens next**
> 
>  
> 
> **But it ain’t my fault**
> 
>  
> 
> ~ _It Ain’t My Fault_ by The Brothers Osborne

On Monday Jamie made a rare trip to Base to deliver a crate of cheese to Ana. A few special knots – so Jamie called them because they were neatly stretched things _literally_ twisted and tied in knots – of fresh mozzarella were included for Jesse and Fareeha who shared them with the Strays before the volunteers and other farm hands came in for breakfast.

Since he was gimpy, Fareeha covered his picking shift (not that he was complaining since it would be hell on his back and his injured hand) and he sat in the still air next to the farm stand all day. Ana smeared some foul-smelling goop on it ( _aloe,_ habibi _, and it’s good for you so hush; mother knows best_ ) and rebandaged it with all the fussing of a new mother.

He supposed it was endearing but after living more than twenty years with her, he was somewhat used to it by then. It didn’t compare, after all, to the time he had run away and she had nearly smothered him in her chest and assorted scarves when they were reunited; then again, probably nothing would.

Much to his surprise, as Ana was bringing down lunch for them to share at the stand Jesse’s phone rang with a text. From Hanzo.

Ana must have seen his trepidation but she mercifully said nothing as he stared down at his phone. She sat cross-legged on the grass and began assembling a sandwich as he debated whether or not to open the message.

“It’s from Han,” Jesse admitted when Ana pointedly pushed the loaf of bread toward him.

“Ah,” Ana replied as she carefully picked up her sandwich.

“I don’t know if I want to open it,” Jesse said, picking at the edge of the bandages on the hand holding his phone. The screen went dark; he tapped the screen to wake it up again.

“I’m sure.”

Jesse flicked his eyes up at Ana who was eating her sandwich as if they were discussing the weather. She had been the one to send him and Fareeha to Hog’s that morning and had warned him not to speak at the kitchen window so Hanzo or Genji, whichever was in earshot, wouldn’t know he was nearby. It was obvious that she knew something – it was in the set of her brows beneath her eye patch, the soft wrinkles around her surviving eye.

But prying a secret out of Ana when she wasn’t willing to share was more difficult than infiltrating Fort Knox with a water gun and a bobby pin so he didn’t press though he did raise an inquisitive brow at her; Ana smiled indulgently at him.

“It is your choice,” Ana reminded him when she finished chewing and he still hadn’t moved.

Jesse sighed. “Maybe after lunch,” he decided. “What’cha brought?”

“Chicken salad and vegetables,” was the reply. Ana nudged the cooler closer to him with an elbow.

They ate in silence, looking down the slight incline of the farm stand to the main road and beyond it what had been jokingly named Cornfield #76. To put off checking his phone, Jesse smeared crackers with Ana’s almost-famous chicken salad and ate that until the container Ana brought was empty. He picked at the cucumber and tomato slices, and ate slices of cheese until the cooler was just about empty. Ana gave him a _look_ when he opened an orange soda – the second bottle he had since she brought lunch down to him – and told him to take the now-empty cooler up to Base.

Halfway up the hill, Jesse pulled out his phone and opened the message which turned out to be more of a letter than a text message. He tucked it back into his pocket so he could read it out of the glare of the sun and ducked in the side door. It took just a moment to clean the cooler out and put it back in its rightful place. Just because he could, he ducked into the bathroom to pee (the reason, he knew, for Ana’s insistence he return the items to Base) and rinse the sweat and dust from his exposed skin, and stole a peach from the bowl on the table. It wasn’t quite ripe, to his disappointment, so the juice was tart even though the flesh was soft.

Without any other excuse, Jesse pulled out his phone again and checked Hanzo’s letter.

 _I wanted to apologize yesterday but I was too disappointed in myself,_ the other man had sent with an honesty that surprised Jesse. _And I was too afraid of what you would said. Now I am twice as guilty – more, in fact, since I had judged you so harshly. I have no right to ask forgiveness or even an acceptance of my apology but I am truly sorry for the accusations and implications that were made. I was afraid because I couldn’t remember what happened but that is no excuse for what I had put you through. I am so sorry_.

Jesse swallowed hard and sat down – Ana would cover the stand for him while he sorted this out and the cooler air of Base was a welcome relief to the heat and sun outside. _It hurt_ , he texted hesitantly. _But I can understand the reasoning._

The reply was immediate. _You shouldn’t_ , Hanzo informed him. _Even drunk and hungover I should have realized that you wouldn’t be the sort to let me do such a thing_.

For a moment Jesse just stared down at his phone. _I woulndt_ , he agreed at last, wincing when the word didn’t autocorrect before he sent it.

 _I cannot begin to express how sorry I am_ , Hanzo insisted.

 _I forgive you_ , Jesse typed but didn’t send and realized that he meant it. It hurt, stung something fierce, but he couldn’t find it in him to be too angry at Hanzo. He sent the message and continued to type, trying to find a way to express this in words.

 _Why?_ Hanzo asked after a minute’s pause.

Jesse tried three different ways to say what he thought and sighed heavily. _You got a sec to call?_ He sent instead. _I’m having a hard time trying to explain myself. If you don’t, it’s fine_.

The rolling ellipsis as Hanzo typed popped up and stopped three times. Then the text page disappeared, replaced by Hanzo’s blank contact picture in his phone as he called. Taking a deep breath, Jesse answered the call. “Hey-” he said, cutting himself off before he could say _darlin’_. They could both hear the vacuum left by the omission though, and were both awkwardly silent. On the other end of the call, Jesse could hear crashing and banging and the chattering of voices.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Hanzo said and the sounds faded slightly, replaced by a loud _whoosh_ and the crackle of air over the receiver before that too faded. “ _I’m at work,_ ” he added awkwardly. Wherever he had hidden himself, the sound of his voice echoed back and there was a faint mechanical humming. “ _I stepped away for a moment._ ”

Jesse swallowed. It was nice to hear his voice and he said so, ignoring the muffled sound on the other end. “Look,” he said. “Ain’t gonna lie…it hurt. But once I figured out _why_ , I get it – you _were_ pretty plastered that night and I should’ve expected you to have blacked out a bit.”

“ _I don’t normally drink so much_ ,” Hanzo said though Jesse wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “ _And I should have realized who I was…in bed with_.”

He could only imagine the blush spreading across Hanzo’s face and he found himself smiling. “It’s okay,” he told Hanzo awkwardly, moving to the window. He could see Ana still sitting on the grass next to the tent, sipping from a large thermos – tea time again, he was sure. “As I said…it hurt but I get it.”

“ _That’s not all_ ,” Hanzo murmured. “ _I should have cleared things up yesterday but I was too much of a coward and so I ran away hoping I could save face. Since then I can’t stop feeling guilty_.”

“I get it,” Jesse said again, leaning against the windowsill. Perhaps from some freaky instinct she developed during her conscription, Ana glanced up toward Base. Just in case she could see him with one eye and through the glare of the window, Jesse waved. “It hurts, but I get it. I’m just some…farmboy in the middle of nowhere that runs a produce stand. I ain’t no one important.”

He heard a sound like a hitched breath and then silence – probably his imagination. “ _That is where you are wrong_ ,” Hanzo said so severely that Jesse jerked and hit his elbow on the glass. Making mute faces of pain, Jesse rubbed it with his free hand and went back to his seat. “ _You are…more than just anyone_ ,” Hanzo admitted quietly. “ _After my blunder, I doubt…you are…_ ”

“I get it,” Jesse repeated.

“ _I can’t stop thinking about you_ ,” Hanzo blurted. “ _When I wake up, when I sleep, at work, when I eat, you’re on my mind. That sounds creepy_ .” He coughed awkwardly when Jesse didn’t say anything at first. “ _That…I just…you don’t have to reciprocate, especially after what I’ve done._ ”

Jesse swallowed. “No,” he said. “Darlin’…” he swallowed again. “It hurt,” he reiterated as he grasped at words. “But…I get it. I do, believe me – I’ve made some doozies of mistakes so I ain’t one to judge others’ for what they have. Ah…look. This kind of thing…it happened ‘cause…well, we ain’t used to each other. Right now, we’re just…two people that see each other on weekends.” He paused and rubbed his free hand against the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck and tugging. “Let me take you out,” he said. To his embarrassment, his accent was getting deeper with his nervousness and embarrassment and he hoped it wasn’t off-putting to Hanzo. He thought of Mean Miss Gallagher’s upturned nose at his accent and his heart plummeted. “To lunch or dinner, proper like. I know…very little about you and you have no reason to trust me so…let me take you out. It don’t have t’ mean nothin’ but… _I’d_ like it to. I’d like t’ get t’ know y’ better.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone and Jesse’s heart rose into his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick. Discreetly checking the screen, he saw that the call was still going and listening closely, he could hear an odd thrumming noise coming from the other end.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hanzo said hesitantly on the other end. “ _That is-_ ”

Another sound came over the line: a _woosh_ of air, the distant rumble of a motor kicking on and the sound of air escaping. “ _What are you doing in here?_ ” Jesse could hear a voice say distantly. The voice echoed and Jesse wondered again where Hanzo was. “ _Did you get locked in?_ ”

“ _Just a moment_ ,” Hanzo said and then there was the sound of rustling fabric, like the phone had been tucked into a pocket or pressed against his chest to muffle the sound. Jesse could still hear him speaking, but couldn’t understand the words – it must’ve been Genji, then.

“What?” Genji demanded sharply.

There was a rustling, thumping, rattling, the sound of muted voices. Then a new voice, low and sounding almost mechanical over the phone, said, “ _-behaving like children, I swear_ .” A muted exclamation, more shuffling, and the sound of a heavy metal door swinging shut followed. “ _I apologize for them_ ,” the new voice said, sounding less tinny. In the distance, Jesse could hear a rush of wind that may have been a car passing. “ _And I apologize for commandeering your call with Hanzo, but they have things to…discuss_.”

“Ah,” Jesse said awkwardly.

“ _My name is Rishi – I’m their roommate_ ,” the voice added. “ _I apologize for not introducing myself earlier._ ”

Jesse coughed. “Mighty fine,” he mumbled. “I’m…Jesse.”

“ _So_ you _are Jesse_ ,” Rishi said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “ _I’ve heard about you…a lot of lovely things, I assure you._ ”

“I’m sure you’ve heard some bad things as well.”

“ _Yes, Genji can be quite…protective._ ” Jesse snorted. “ _I know,_ ” Rishi assured him. “ _Believe me, I_ know.”

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh. “Well I’m sure they’re lucky to have you.”

“ _I try to remind them_ ,” the man replied. “ _It seems that I am the only relatively sane one. Hopefully you prove to be relatively sane as well – it gets lonely, I’m sure you understand._ ” There was a pause and the sound of a metal door opening. “ _Ah, Hanzo_ ,” Rishi said distantly as if he had pulled the phone from his ear. “ _Yes, yes, here’s your phone back. It was lovely speaking to you, Jesse_.”

“Likewise,” Jesse said but wasn’t sure if Rishi heard as the phone was transferred.

“ _I’m sorry for that_ ,” Hanzo blurted over the phone. “ _My brother and roommate came looking for me…I don’t normally take breaks like this_.”

Jesse smiled. As nice as it was talking to Rishi, it was even better hearing Hanzo’s voice again. “No worries, darlin’,” he murmured and Fareeha poked her head through the breakfast window, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Now I suppose I better let you get back to work before they come back,” he said as he backed away toward the front door. Fareeha’s head disappeared from the window and reappeared around the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m being stalked, myself. Talk to you later?”

Over the phone, Hanzo gave a nervous chuckle. “ _As you wish,_ ” he said almost wistfully. “ _I_ should _get back to work. Shall…shall we talk about a date later?_ ”

He couldn’t help but smile, making Fareeha’s eyes narrow further and her shoulders emerged from the doorway. It reminded him about a hunting lioness and Jesse backed up further. “I’d love nothin’ more, sugar,” he assured Hanzo. “But right now ‘Ree’s about to pull a Rishi and will be much less merciful than Genji, I’d wager. We can plan for Saturday? Before you visit Watchpoint?”

The thing about lionesses was that they hunted in groups; Zarya appeared down the hall, her massive build and bright pink hair very quickly giving away her position.

“ _Sounds good,_ ” Hanzo said, oblivious to Jesse’s danger. On his side of the line, Jesse could hear the sound of voices and that strange banging and clanging of metal he had heard earlier in the call. A few of the voices called greetings to Hanzo. “ _You just let me know…?_ ”

It sounded more like a question and Jesse fumbled behind him for the doorknob as Fareeha emerged fully from the kitchen. “Will do,” Jesse said. “Talk to you later, darlin’.”

Hanzo chuckled. “ _Talk to you later_ ,” he murmured back and he was sure it was just his imagination but it almost sounded like _I love you_. When the call ended Jesse slammed open the door and leapt off the grassy edge of the hill, clutching his phone and hat as he tumbled down the hill.

As he unrolled himself with a groan when he stopped, he heard Ana say, “That’s my son – adopted, of course.” Jesse twisted and found an unfamiliar couple looking down at him oddly. Behind them, Ana had a hand to her mouth to hide her grin.

“Howdy,” he said awkwardly to the couple.

* * *

As the two of them approached their separate breaks throughout the day, they sent messages back and forth. Jesse assured Hanzo that he had remained unscathed and with his phone intact; the only casualty had been his dignity but he didn’t have much of that to begin with.

Hanzo sent back a picture of a slender brown-skinned man with a round face and wide smile standing next to Genji, the man’s arm around Genji’s waist and Genji’s around his shoulders. The younger Shimada was wearing a black shirt with a large design of a blue and green dragon chasing each other in an ouroboros pattern; the strange man had a cut-off shirt with a glowing fractal design of some kind of bird but the wording was obscured by the folds of excess cloth. _Genji and Rishi_ , Hanzo labeled.

 _For such a tiny man he has such a deep voice_ , Jesse said and received a short _lol_ for his comment.

At dinner Fareeha and Zarya pressed him for information on his mysterious caller while Angela, sitting next to Jesse, tried to keep them as distracted as possible. “Kings Row,” Gabe said abruptly and seemingly out of nowhere.

“ _Que_?” Jesse wondered and Jack looked amused.

“ _Para su cita_ ,” Gabe explained. “Take him to Kings Row.”

Rein cocked his great head to the side. “That _tapas_ café in town near the animal shelter,” Jack elaborated. “They have good iced hot chocolates.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” Rein complained in his booming voice and Ana patted his arm consolingly.

“Chocolate-covered bacon,” Gabe added in his raspy voice. “ _Su comida tambien es buena_.”

So he was in _that_ kind of mood. Clearly Ana had told him (and most likely Jack as well) about him texting and calling Hanzo. “ _No te molestes_ ,” Jesse warned Gabe, his eyes flicking to Ana and Jack as well. He knew that if he made it look like he was only talking to one of them, one or both of the other two would claim that he hadn’t told _them_ not to get involved.

“ _No eres divertido_ ,” Ana complained. Fareeha looked suspicious.

“He’s planning a date,” Jack told the rest of the table that didn’t speak Spanish. “Gabe is offering advice.”

“Why not take them to the Diner?” Fareeha wanted to know.

Rein slapped the table, making their cutlery jump. “No!” he bellowed, startling the dining room into silence for a moment. The other hands still there looked momentarily terrified. “He needs somewhere _alone_ so he can woo them!” he said.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Ana told him and patted his massive wrist with a comparatively-tiny hand.

The big man slapped the table again and this time everyone lifted their cups and plates so they wouldn’t be knocked over. The table groaned but held steady, Rein having been told that he could only sit on the heavily-reinforced tables due to his tendency to get overexcited. “Yes!” He exclaimed. “We will help you, Jesse! As much as you need! Come to me if you need advice - this old dog still knows a few tricks!”

“Eew,” Fareeha groaned, dropping her half-full plate and shoving it toward Zarya who without looking up from where she was shoveling food into her mouth, scooped an arm out to drag it closer. “Lost my appetite.”

* * *

Tuesday morning dawned cooler than was typical of early-July, but the forecast called for a mild summer. Jesse texted Hanzo when he woke up; just a quick _good morning, beautiful_ and didn’t expect a response until later in the day when it was more reasonable for normal human beings to be up and about.

Since he was still considered gimpy by Jack and Ana who wrote the schedules, he drove one of the personnel trucks to take the hands and volunteers to the fields after breakfast. “Payload’s on the move, over,” he said into the radio pinned to his gingham shirt when the group leader slapped the roof of the cab twice.

“ _Payload, where are you headed?_ ” one of the other trucks asked. It was a voice that Jesse didn’t recognize. He started his engine and began rumbling down the road.

“Identify and close your channel when you’re done,” Jesse said cheerfully, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he didn’t lose any volunteers. He wasn’t driving fast enough to have dislodged one but those punks were sometimes reckless; and even if he was, it wouldn’t take much for the volunteer to roll back to their feet and jog to catch up to the truck. “Payload is headed for the Dorado run, over.”

There was a screech behind him, not loud or sudden enough to be too much of a concern, and Jesse glanced in the side-view mirror to peek at the truck behind him. If it was the truck he was thinking, it was just a case of squeaky brakes. “ _Um,_ ” the voice said hesitantly. “ _I don’t know what truck I’m in and I’m not certain where we’re headed. Over._ ”

“ _It’s written on the side of the truck, over,_ ” Gabe grumbled over the radio.

“ _Oh,_ ” the new voice said and the truck behind Jesse screeched again, grumbled, and stopped. When he looked back again, he could see the driver peeking his head out the window and peering at the words on the door. “ _This is Junker,_ ” he said and the truck rocked before it began rolling downhill.

Jesse lifted his foot off the brakes to try and put more distance between Payload and Junker. “Watch your speed, Junker,” he cautioned. “Keep good distance so you don’t crash, over.”

“ _Sorry!_ ” the driver of Junker exclaimed and Jesse could hear the shout through the window as well. He sighed, then again in relief when Junker behind him slowed and the distance between them increased. “ _Do you know if two groups are going to Dorado? Oh, over!_ ”

The radio squelched like Gabe had been about to say something and Jesse waited until the radio fell silent again before speaking. “We’ll pass your turn, Junker. I can point you in the right direction but you should have gotten a map and your group assignment before you got behind the wheel, over.”

“ _I thought I was going somewhere else,_ ” Junker’s driver whined as Jesse reached the base of the hill and carefully began crossing the main road. In the rearview mirror, Jesse could see one of the group leaders in the back of his truck pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head; the other group leader, sitting next to him, clasped his shoulder sympathetically.

“ _Cut the chatter, over,_ ” Jack said from the third personnel truck in their convoy.

Jesse sighed and thumbed the receiver. In its holder attached to the air vents, his phone buzzed with a text from Hanzo. “ _Junker, just follow me; I’ll make sure you don’t miss your turn._ ”

“ _Where am I going?_ ” Junker’s driver asked. Peeking behind him, Jesse saw that he had stopped completely, halfway into the main road so that he obstructed nearly half of it.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse prayed for patience; he was sure that Gabe and Jack were doing the same. One of the group leaders said into the radio, “ _Junker always goes to Junkertown,_ ” he said with patience more expected of a saint. Seeing that the two in his bed weren’t touching their radios, Jesse guessed he was in another truck. “ _You are obstructing traffic –_ get moving. Over.”

Junker shook and rattled and then ultimately stalled out as Jesse stopped just within view. He could hear the light buzzing of voices from the bed of Payload as the hands listened. Most weren’t the most awake, clutching thermoses of coffee that still steamed in the cool morning air, but as they all had to drive in to get to work, they were awake enough to not appreciate the delay: the later they started, the hotter their work would be as the sun climbed into the sky.

Parking Payload, Jesse leaned out the window in time to see the black-garbed form of Gabe descend the final curve of the hill. “ _We’re moving out_ ,” Gabe said into the radio. “ _Put the car in park and get out of the cab._ ” The driver of Junker leaped out, looking small and terrified; Gabe slid in as the cars obstructed by the truck began to get impatient. “ _Junker moving out, over._ ” Gabe said stiffly.

Shaking his head, Jesse shifted Payload into gear again. Someone tapped on the window in the back and without looking away from the curving dirt road Jesse flicked the catch and pulled it open. “I apologize for my cousin,” one of the volunteers said. Her fair skin was flushed when he glanced at her in the mirror though whether it was from sunburn or embarrassment Jesse wasn’t sure.

Jesse said nothing as they rattled along the road. Junker caught up to them as they approached the fork in the road toward Junkertown and Hog’s shack. “He looks like he wants to murder someone,” one of the volunteers said.

“Like he’s swallowed a lemon,” another agreed.

“Now arriving at Dorado,” Jesse called through the window, taking his foot off the gas so that the truck slowed to a crawl. “Have a nice day,” he added as the group assigned to that section vaulted neatly out of the truck with their gear. When he counted ten people on the side of the road and the group leader in charge waved to him, Jesse shifted the car back into gear and moved on down the road.

In its holder, Jesse’s phone buzzed again. The preview indicated an image was sent. Thinking about it brought a smile to his face as he turned down another road to complete the run. “Anubis,” he announced, slowing down again when they passed the sign that marked that particular plot: a piece of laminated paper faded from exposure to the sun with a picture of the Egyptian god in question stapled to a wooden post.

“Thanks, Jess,” the group leader said as he jumped out of the truck. Jesse waved his arm out the window and continued on.

“Payload returning to Base, over,” he said into the radio as he followed the arc of the road to the main road. While he waited for pre-work traffic to part enough for him to make his turn, Jesse flicked open his phone.

 _Good morning,_ Hanzo had replied five minutes after Jesse had initially texted him. _If it is me you are speaking to._ The picture sent was of him looking sleep-mussed, his hair loose and spread artfully over his pillow.

Putting his phone down, Jesse shifted gears and drove up the hill. “Payload approaching Base,” he said into the radio and glanced down at the schedule taped to the center of the steering wheel. Unlike Junker, the other two personnel trucks Payload and Target had rotating schedules. “Prep for the Well run, over.”

Approaching Base, Jesse could see the waiting groups begin to split for the next run. He pulled into his spot and parked, allowing the four groups doing the Well run to climb aboard. As they did, he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick selfie. _Not as beautiful as you, darkin_ , he texted with his left hand while fumbling for his coffee with the other. _But itll do_. It was only after he hit the send button that he noticed the errors and winced.

 _What are you doing up so early?_ Hanzo asked.

Jesse smiled as the last volunteer climbed into the bed of the truck and squeezed into place. _I’m a farmer_ , he texted quickly. _What do you expect?_

One of the group leaders tapped the hood and Jesse shifted the car into gear. “Payload’s on the move, over,” Jesse said.

A heartbeat later, Jack said over the radio, “ _Target returning to Base for Market run._ ”

Junker’s previous driver sat at the base of the hill, his lanky legs splayed. “You lost?” Jesse asked, poking his head out the window and coming to a stop beside the volunteer.

“I think I’m supposed to be at Dorado,” the kid said shakily. “My cousin…”

Thinking back to the girl that apologized, Jesse sighed. “Hop in,” he said tiredly. “Might not be going that way but I’ll get you on the path there. Step to it,” he added when the kid took his time. “Day’s wasting.”

“You’re too good,” one of the group leaders muttered. Another hauled the kid into the back of his shirt to save time as Jesse began driving again.

“A real angel,” said another volunteer. “My hero.”

The man next to her snorted. “Keep it in your pants.”

Chuckling, Jesse turned down the Well run. It was a completely different run that the Dorado one, on the opposite side of the road, but he would at least past the turnoff into the one the lost kid needed. He leaned into his radio. “Dorado run, this is Payload; come in, over.”

“ _This is Dorado, over,_ ” that group leader said over the radio a minute later.

“Found a friend of yours,” he said conversationally. “He says he was supposed to be with his cousin on at Dorado. You missing someone?”

There was another pause. “ _No, I have my full ten and Clara says that he was assigned elsewhere, over._ ”

Jesse sighed heavily. In the back, he could hear the kid complaining and he felt a headache coming on. “ _Not missing any for Anubis, over,_ ” that group leader said over the radio.

“ _Not for Junkertown, either,_ ” Gabe snarled. “ _Over._ ”

“ _No one at Well or Lighthouse; over,_ ” one of the group leaders in the back of Payload said.

Jesse gritted his teeth as he heard the kid complain about the dirt and mud in the bed and ask why he couldn’t be in the cab. “ _Am missing one for Nightmarket_ ,” Zarya said over the radio. “ _On board Target now, over._ ”

“I’ll drop him at the base of the Market trail,” Jesse said as he made his first turn. “I’ll pass it when I’m done with the Well run, over.”

“ _Tak točno,_ ” Zarya replied. “ _Over._ ”

Jesse twisted slightly toward the open window. “Y’heard that?” he called.

“Yeah,” the kid said sullenly. “Can you drive more carefully? It’s a bumpy ride back here and you don’t have seatbelts.”

Feeling uncharacteristically vindictive, Jesse hit a dirt hump faster than he needed to. “Sorry, what was that?” He jerked the wheel to make his next turn. “Hey guys, approaching Well.”

The drop off this time required him to stop as the Well run had more gear to tote than the Dorado group. He found an unread text from Hanzo as they were unloading. _You look thrilled._

 _I can feel myself grinding my teeth to dust,_ Jesse replied. _Young punks._ Hanzo sent back a laughing face emoji.

Waving to the group leaders when they patted Payload’s side and thanked him, Jesse shifted the big truck into gear and began driving again. “Hey dude,” the kid said, trying to wedge his shoulders in the window. “Think I can just go with this group?”

“No,” Jesse replied shortly. “And sit down before you break your fool neck.”

Grumbling, the kid wiggled back out and sat with a sulky pout. Jesse kept an eye on him, sure that if given the chance he’d make a break for it somewhere. “ _Target moving out_ ,” Jack said over the radio. “ _Over_.”

In the back, Jesse could hear the two other group leaders talking to the kid. “Why were you driving Junker if you’re assigned to Nightmarket?” one asked.

“’Cause my name was there,” the kid said sullenly. “Why else?”

“Can you even drive stick?” the other wondered.

The kid sneered. “Obviously if I could make it down the hill.”

“That don’t mean nothing,” Jesse muttered. Louder, he said, “Just that you could start a car and shift it in neutral. Do you even _have_ your license? Can you even drive?” he added, remembering that even though he hadn’t had his license or any legal validation that he could, Jesse had been driving the trucks and ATVs on Jack’s farm since he could see over the dash and reach the pedals. And, of course, not crash the things.

“I’m eighteen!” the kid snapped.

“Don’t mean nothing,” Jesse repeated.

“What’s your name?” one of the group leaders asked.

“Nunya,” the kid grumbled.

Jesse sighed. “ _His name is Clarence Oswald,_ ” Ana said over the radio with the air of someone performing a eulogy. “ _Volunteering with his cousin Clara Davis. The scheduled driver for Junkertown was Anthony Egan but he called in sick this morning. Gabe was going to drive but Clarence volunteered. He was not assigned. Over._ ”

Some of the volunteers in the back of Payload snickered. “ _Clarence?_ ”

“Approaching Lighthouse,” Jesse announced, unable to keep the mirth from his voice. “Everybody but _Clarence_ , this is your stop.”

A few of the volunteers were still chuckling as they unloaded. “Bye, Jess,” one of the group leaders said with a cheerful wave. “See you, _Clarence._ ”

Jesse shifted the car into drive and got going. “Payload on the way to the Market run,” he said into the radio. “Gonna cut through the Temple run so I can make a special delivery for you, Zarya; over.”

“ _Understood_ ”, Zarya replied. “ _Over._ ”

The Temple fields had just been sown, so there was nothing on either side of the lonely dirt road as Jesse drove. He made the next turn and glanced in the rearview mirror in time to watch Clarence jump out the back into a field of corn. “Lost him in the Temple run,” Jesse said, not even bothering to stop. “At the border with the corn, over.”

“ _Will kill him, over,_ ” Zarya promised.

“Warihum quwitik,” Ana replied. “ _Keep an eye out for him, over._ ”

To Jesse’s surprise neither Gabe nor Jack, neither of whom had much patience for stupidity, said anything. The group leaders all sent back affirmatives as Jesse slowed the truck and began making his way back to Base. “Payload returning to Base,” he said. “Over.”

“ _Confirmed,_ ” Ana said. “ _I see you, over,_ ” she added when he turned out of the Temple run and began arcing back toward Base.

It was another few minutes before he pulled Payload into her spot and climbed out of the cab. “She needs a new coat of paint soon,” he told Ana as she poked her head out the kitchen window.

Ana made a face and ducked back in. “Come in for breakfast,” she said, muffled by distance and the pale blue curtains. “I made _shakshuka_.”

As Jesse entered the kitchen, he checked his phone and found a picture from Hanzo. It was another little succulent, the pot no bigger than Jesse’s fist, and what seemed to Jesse to be the world’s ugliest cat. The poor thing was missing huge chunks of fur so that its grayish-pink skin was visible in some areas, one ear was chopped nearly in half, half of its whiskers were missing or crinkled in a way that wasn’t natural for a cat like that, one of its hips jutted out – an indication that it had been broken and healed wrong – and an eye was missing. Strangely enough, the missing eye was what disturbed Jesse the most, even taking into account the sheer _wrongness_ the outline of its misshapen hips but that was probably because someone had covered the wound with a cloth patch that had a googly eye glued on.

 _Genji has found a new victim_ , Hanzo’s text said. _Cat stares on in sympathy_.

“That is the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen,” Ana said flatly when he showed her the picture. “And I’ve seen some _ugly_ cats. I’ve seen [cats that look like testicles](http://cattime.com/cat-breeds/sphynx-cats#/slide/1) but that one takes the cake.”

Laughing, Jesse passed on the message to Hanzo with one of his own: _I’m sure his personality is better than his looks but darlin that most definitely is one of the ugliest cats on God’s green earth._

 _He’s not the prettiest inside or out,_ Hanzo replied with three laughing emojis tacked on to the end. _Cat was rescued by Genji when he was coming home one night from the bar. None of us had the heart to turn him away, especially since he wouldn’t be adopted with a mug like his._

There was another picture sent: the cat stared at the camera, its ears – the good one more obvious than the mauled one – twisted back so that the curve of it looked like devil horns…or would if it had two whole ears. Its lone eye stared soullessly into the camera, a tooth peeking out from a crooked jaw on its blind side. A slice made a crater in one nostril, a bald patch where the fur refused to grow back over the scar arcing from one lip across the bridge of its nose.

 _I can’t take the googly eye seriously_ , Jesse sent back and laughed when Ana shuddered theatrically upon seeing the picture. _But it still looks like it wants to devour my soul._

 _He prefers chicken livers,_ Hanzo replied with a picture of a scoop of grayish brown goop in a food dish. The name on the front said CAT. _Genji spoils him with homemade food._

Jesse took a picture of the _shakshuka_ Ana put in front of him. He managed to get her in the picture as well though she looked far less disturbing than Hanzo’s devil-cat. _I get spoiled too._

A picture of the cat eating was sent. From above it almost looked normal if not for the odd protrusion of its hip and its crooked tail…and its missing chunks of fur. Its eye patch blended in with its black fur and from the angle Hanzo took, the googly eye wasn’t visible.

 _What are you doing up so early, darling?_ Jesse asked as he scooped a whole egg and a mess of marinara sauce on his piece of toast. _Not that I’m minding texting you but most normal people aren’t awake yet._ Jesse checked the time before sending: it was still 5:30 in the morning, earlier than many tended to wake up.

 _Just about to go to the gym,_ Hanzo explained. _Then I shower and get ready for work._

Jesse whistled, or would have if his mouth wasn’t full. _Thats dedication,_ he said. _I just got back from making personnel deliveries._

 _I’m just imagining you delivering boxes of people,_ Hanzo said back. _Lol_.

Chewing and swallowing, Jesse absently piled sauce and eggs on a new slice of bread. _Something like that._ He shoved the chunk into his mouth with Ana shook her head in disgust. After a moment of hesitation, he told Hanzo about Clarence and the trucks and how the kid had run off into one of the fields.

 _Do you think he’ll be hurt?_ Hanzo asked after a few sympathetic responses.

 _Just tired and sunburned,_ Jesse replied. _Zarya probably won’t kill him if she finds him, either. He signed a waiver so I’m not too worried about it._

“So when is your date?” Ana asked and Jesse nearly dropped his phone into his food. “I did not go snooping through your phone,” she added though Jesse had never accused her of doing so. “A mother just knows. So. When?”

 _I’m headed out now,_ Hanzo said. _Talk to you later?_

Jesse replied distractedly, coughing up a chunk of sauce-soaked bread. “Now don’t-” he began but Ana waved it off.

“Don’t worry, _habibi_ ,” she assured him. “It’s not for me to tell and as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Finally freeing his throat, Jesse leaned back in his chair and looked at Ana suspiciously. “Why aren’t you telling me this is a bad idea?” he demanded. “Everyone else would say that I shouldn’t be speaking to him much less still entertaining the idea of… _courtin_ g him.”

Ana hid a smile behind her napkin. She reached across the table and placed a gnarled hand over his. “Because I know to do so would be against your nature,” she told him. “And you honestly like him. _Courting_ him would make you happy and that’s all I want.”

Swallowing hard, Jesse looked down at his bowl. The two remaining eggs stared back at him like accusing eyes drenched in blood-red sauce. He poked one of the eggs and watched the golden yolk split in zig-zagging fractal patterns over the surface of the sauce. “I like him,” he admitted quietly to Ana. “A lot. More than just for his looks.”

“I’m only blind in one eye,” Ana said dryly, taking a serene sip from her tea. “You don’t need to tell me how attractive he is.”

Groaning, Jesse covered his face with one hand and grimaced when he felt the sauce on his hand at the last minute. From the muffled giggling coming from the woman across from him, she had either seen it or planted it there so it would get stuck in his hair.

It wouldn’t surprise him if it was some combination of the two.

* * *

That night after dinner, they all gathered in the Base common area to watch _Chopped_. Zarya had been the first to develop a love of the show and had been borderline aggressive to watch it on the TV in the common area when the TV in her room broke. They joked that she had been watching too much porn, but most likely it had been her watching too much Food Network. So they had adapted, none of them wanting to challenge Zarya’s claim on the remote when it came time for her favored shows, and all of them learned to at least appreciate what she watched.

Soon it became a game: when the basket ingredients were called out, they would pause the show to discuss what they would do regardless if any of them had the skills to do so or not. Then they would bicker until Zarya became too impatient to allow the conversation to continue and hit play.

That night it was no different: they all sat in their spots, each with their drink and snack of choice. Angela, who had more than enough of cooking after a full day at the Diner, would sit on the couch with Fareeha and read instead of watching too closely while Rein joined them or not depending on his mood. Sometimes he would lean back against Ana’s legs like a large dog asking for attention and she would card the fingers not holding her teacup through his wild white mane. Jack and Gabe didn’t particularly enjoy _Chopped_ or any of the shows on the Food Network and Gabe had a particularly passionate dislike of Bobby Flay and especially Ree Drummond, but depending on how they felt that night they would join the Old Couch with Ana and Rein. Under Ana’s critical eye, they would knit or crochet depending on their whims that night so they wouldn’t become too agitated at the show.

Gabe was trying to knit [fingerless gloves with snowflakes and expletives](https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/how-cold-is-it) and Jack was attempting a hat but it was already looking lumpy and uneven. Clearly Ana was in a playful mood or she would have corrected him and from the resigned frown on his face, Jack had figured this out.

“NEW SEASON,” Zarya boomed excitedly. She had been talking about it often in the past few weeks and Jesse was surprised that the new premier had come so quickly. Zarya’s calendar on the Wall of Calendars in the common area was marked with her workout schedules, work rotations, and the new episodes of her favorite shows. It was positioned next to Jesse’s and he glanced at it every once in awhile to see if their shifts would line up or if she was doing a workout he wanted coaching in, so he didn’t know why it was such a surprise.

“Time flies,” Angela said absently without looking up from her book.

As per tradition, they watched the other episodes leading up to the premier which only wound Zarya up further. It was nice since she didn’t have much that made her that obviously excited, so none of them could fault her on it.

Jesse watched absently as he texted Hanzo. To his surprise, Hanzo told him that he was doing inventory at work even though the he was the only one there and the building was closed. He was incredibly vague about it and Jesse told him to make sure he was safe from the unsavory types since he was alone so late at night.

 _I didn’t want to deal with Genji and Rishi_ , Hanzo explained. _They’re watching_ Chopped.

 _We are too,_ Jesse said cautiously. _It’s Zarya’s favourite._ For some reason his phone autocorrected it to the British spelling and deciding it wasn’t _technically_ wrong, Jesse sent the message anyway.

 _Oh_.

Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek. _Is something wrong?_

For a long time, Hanzo didn’t reply though the rolling ellipses popped up and disappeared four different times. On the screen the host whose name Jesse could never remember said, “ _First off, we have chef Hanzo Shimada_.”

Jesse’s head snapped up fast enough that he was momentarily dizzy and he was sure he wrenched a muscle. Everyone was also staring at the screen as the person he was texting walked into the shot and suddenly Jesse could understand why Hanzo had decided to hide while his roommates watched the episode.

“ _I am chef Hanzo Shimada, executive chef and co-owner with my brother of North Wind in Philadelphia, PA,_ ” the Hanzo on screen said. “ _We were separately inspired by our mother and a close family friend to adapt traditional Japanese and Korean cuisine to modern American palates using ingredients commonly found in the average American grocery store_ .” The camera switched to a clip of Hanzo, resplendent in a pristine white chef’s jacket with navy blue trim and his name embroidered in the same color on his chest, holding a lumpy black _something_ in his palm. “… _well, mostly._ ”

There was a clip of Hanzo garnishing dishes and sending them out of the kitchen; of Hanzo chopping herbs, creating a stock, cutting into a fish. In each clip his face was serious with no hint of the dry humor that Jesse was used to. This wasn’t the man that smiled at Hana and apparently learned sign language for her after her accident. This wasn’t the man that flirted with Jesse at the stand, who teased Lucio, who apparently started a water- and mud-fight at Watchpoint.

“ _I was inspired to cook by my first job in the Chinatown section of Philadelphia where I worked as a dishwasher and worked my way up. When I saved up enough money, I went to culinary school. I practiced at home for my family when they told me how much they missed the traditional foods of their home country._ ” The camera switched to a warm kitchen with Aimi sitting on a bar stool and watching Hanzo cook. Much to Jesse’s surprise, he saw Genji and Rishi sitting in the background, the former recognizable by his acid-green hair which clearly hadn’t changed since the footage was shot.

Then a little girl leaped into the kitchen and latched on to as much of Hanzo’s trim waist as her little arms could reach. Without looking, Hanzo reached around him and scooped her up on his hip and seeing her whole and healthy and smiling, it took Jesse an embarrassingly long time to recognize Hana. A woman walked into the shot and plucked her off Hanzo and she wiggled and Jesse wasn’t sure what was said, if anything, but his ears were filled with a dull roar as he watched them interact. Hana made grabby hands at Hanzo from the woman’s arms and he switched places with his brother so he could bounce Hana on his hip even though she was clearly too old for such coddling.

Swallowing hard, he realized that Ana was looking at him sympathetically across the room. Gabe and Jack were focused on the screen with single-minded focus. Jesse turned back to the screen, now aware that everyone else was cutting awkward glances at him.

“ _I wanted to go on_ Chopped _to prove to myself that I can do this,_ ” the Hanzo on screen said seriously, dressed in the show’s trademark jacket and apron. “ _When I win, I will use the money to explore the world and see if I can’t bring a taste of home to others._ ”

The camera panned away and now Hanzo walked through the set to his station. The host continued on about the next contestants while Jesse’s eyes dropped to his phone. He had five new messages from Hanzo, the most recent reading, _I guess you know why_.

 _Wow,_ he sent back. _I know a celebrity_.

 _No,_ Hanzo said simply and didn’t elaborate.

Scrolling up, Jesse realized that Hanzo was _uncomfortable_ . _What’s wrong?_ he asked hesitantly. _I thought you’d be excited_.

 _I’m afraid of how they’d portray me_ , Hanzo told him. _I wasn’t…the best on the show._

Jesse glanced up as the last contestant was being introduced. The Hanzo on screen was scowling down at his basket, hadn’t seemed to look up at all since he was introduced. He stared with a single-minded focus at the basket and could see how that would be taken badly. _Do you want me to stop watching?_ He asked before he could talk himself out of it.

 _I can’t ask that of you_ , Hanzo said after a pause.

Getting up, Jesse slipped away to the roof access of the Barracks. _Well, it makes you uncomfortable and it’s really Zarya’s favorite show, not mine,_ he sent when he had settled himself on a section of roof where he could lay back and stare up at the stars. There was minimal light pollution in his quiet little town, even less so far out into Jack’s Farm for all of the outside lights that still buzzed in the warm night air. Despite this, his eyes were ruined by the presence of the brightly back-lit phone in his hands as he texted Hanzo. _How about sometime we watch it together and you can explain how it really happened?_

 _Bold of you_ , Hanzo replied after a minute’s pause and Jesse wondered if he was even still working. _Talking about a second date when we haven’t even planned one?_

Jesse grinned at the phone even though Hanzo couldn’t see. _I’ve gotten some suggestions on where I should take you like the gentleman I am,_ he sent back.

 _Gossiping to others already?_ Hanzo shot back.

 _Much as I love texting you, darling, since I’ve been cheated of hearing your lovely voice over the TV, can I call you to get my fix now?_ Jesse asked boldly and waited impatiently for a response.

Hanzo called and Jesse thought his grin would split his face. “Thank you for calling Jack’s Farm, this is Jesse McCree speaking, how can I help you today?” There was a long pause and then over the phone Hanzo started laughing. “For the record, I only told Ana because she knows all anyway. She told Gabe and Jack and they were trying to make suggestions.”

“ _Oh?_ ” Hanzo asked coyly, a trace of mirth still in his voice.

“I have high recommendations for a _tapas_ café in town,” Jesse told him. “But I wonder if that’s to your tastes since you work in a high-end restaurant and all.”

Hanzo chuckled. “ _Here’s a little secret,_ ” he told Jesse. “ _I like ‘normal’ food too. Actually, Genji is the worst because he just about refuses to eat anything that isn’t frozen Stouffer’s mac and cheese – any other mac and cheese, even homemade, is subpar to him and thus unworthy._ ”

“Well that’s good to know,” Jesse said, trying not to let Hanzo know how relieved he felt. Here he was, just a simple farmer…and there Hanzo was, the executive chef and co-owner of one of the most famous restaurants in that area. “I hear that they have good frozen hot chocolates.”

There was a strangled sound over the phone. “ _That doesn’t even make sense,_ ” Hanzo sighed. “ _But I have the_ worst _sweet tooth so I’ll probably enjoy that and hate myself for it._ ”

Jesse laughed. “Well I’ve been assured that it’s delicious – _and_ they have chocolate-covered bacon if you’re into that.”

“ _I’ve never tried it,_ ” Hanzo admitted. “ _A lot of my diet consists of Chinese takeout_.”

“An award-winning chef eats _Chinese takeout?_ ” Jesse asked with another laugh.

Hanzo took it in stride and chuckled. “ _It’s usually really late when I leave the restaurant and I just want to go to bed. But it’s not as often as you think. Rishi will usually save me food from their dinner so I don’t have to do much._ ”

“Nice of them,” Jesse said and Hanzo hummed in agreement. “What do they make you usually?”

“ _Whatever is on their minds_ ,” Hanzo replied. “ _Rishi is vegetarian and Genji will eat fish so long as the head is not attached so most of the food is vegetarian or vegan depending on their whims. He keeps the same hours as me more or less so it’s usually Genji that cooks._ ”

Jesse shifted as the night seemed to grow colder. “What do they do?”

“ _Rishi is a tattoo artist – he did my sleeve, actually. Genji does what he wants most days. He tends to come to the restaurant for the lunch rush._ ”

“I always wanted to know what it was like,” Jesse said wistfully. “As Ana’s told you…I ain’t much for cooking.”

“ _Anyone can cook_ ,” Hanzo told him gently.

Jesse cracked a grin. “Did you just quote _Ratatouille_ at me?”

“ _No,_ ” Hanzo said with a sigh. “ _But it_ was _Hana’s favorite movie growing up. She says that Genji and Rishi are Remy and Linguini and I am Colette._ ”

Thinking to the characters of the old children’s movie, Jesse struggled not to laugh out loud. Hanzo did fit the stiff French chef’s character: passionate about food but stiff and formal. “I can see that,” he told him. “Did you raise Hana?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Hanzo replied. “ _Ha-Yun lives –_ lived – _with us. She used to visit us when we moved out and bring Hana along. They lived with our mother._ ”

Jesse didn’t miss the awkward change in tense and said nothing. “I didn’t get a chance to visit your mother when I went to get my hand bandaged,” Jesse said instead, grasping at straws for something to improve the mood.

“ _Why did you need to get your hand bandaged?_ ” Hanzo asked, sounding confused.

“Ah,” Jesse said, stretching out on the roof. “I forgot I had dunked a knife in the sink and stabbed myself when I stuck my hand in the water.”

There was a long moment of silence over the phone. “ _Really._ ”

“Really, I swear.”

Hanzo sighed. “ _I have no words,_ ” he said at last. “ _What were you even doing in the kitchen?_ ”

“I was doing dishes!” Jesse protested.

“ _Clearly even_ that _isn’t safe!_ ” Hanzo pointed out with a laugh that did something to Jesse’s heart. “ _All joking aside…are you well?_ ”

“Yes,” Jesse assured him quickly. “We ran to Watchpoint to get it looked at and Orisa said that it didn’t even need stitches. I’m gimpy now, though, so I’m stuck as a driver instead of a field hand but that’s fine by me since it means I need to do less.”

Hanzo laughed. “ _Lazy_ ,” he chided.

The door to the rest of the Barracks opened and Angela scooted out, a blanket draped over her shoulders. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Jesse assured her and she settled down beside him, tossing the blanket over his hips to ward off the faint chill in the air. “Sorry darlin’,” he said, knowing that Angela wouldn’t tattle on him to the others. “Angie came out to join me on the roof.”

“ _After the incident with the knife is being on the roof wise?_ ” Hanzo wondered.

Jesse laughed as Angela opened her book again. “I’m safer up here than I am in the kitchen.” Angela grunted in agreement, pointedly looking at the bandage wrapped around Jesse’s hand. “If you could believe it.”

“ _I almost can’t but then again…_ ” Hanzo teased.

They talked and joked until late. At some point Angela abandoned Jesse and her blanket to go inside, kissing his temple gently and squeezed a shoulder as she climbed back in through the roof access.

“I should get to bed,” Jesse said reluctantly. “A farmer’s gotta be up with the sun.”

Hanzo sighed. “ _It’s getting late,_ ” he agreed, sounding just as reluctant. “ _Goodnight, Jesse_.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To say that I speak Spanish would be an insult to the language and everyone that can actually speak it. I mostly just used Google Translate so if you see anything wrong, please let me know!
> 
> Just a silly little slice of life on Jack's Farm snuck in. The movement of the trucks and the radios are based on a study abroad I did on a forest reclamation project (coincidentally also where I learned Spanish). There were a handful of "runs" or "loops" (depending on which English-speaking station manager you asked) with separate names, routes, and permanent or semi-permanent staff members. 
> 
> Also, I maintain that while I like Chopped (and watching The Food Network as a whole), I am _not_ addicted and can stop whenever I want. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all of the kudos and comments! They make my day whenever I read them. 
> 
> ~DC
> 
> **PS: Thank you Lyall_Lupa for correcting me on the Spanish!**


	11. Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesse,” he said belatedly and Lena flashed a quick smile up at him. “Um, just a takeout menu is fine,” he added when she added to the growing pile of papers in front of him.
> 
> “Nonsense!” Lena exclaimed as she hefted the binder and ruffled her fingers through its pages. “We’re doing this right! What day are you having your date?”
> 
> Jesse scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was nice to have someone help him, even if Lena was pretty much a complete stranger. As if sensing his hesitation, Lena smiled up at him but didn’t press him. “We haven’t set a date yet,” and by the rise of one of Lena’s brown brows, she knew it meant I haven’t really asked him yet. “But it’ll probably be a Saturday morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, but you were so shy, so was I  
> Maybe that’s why it was so hard to believe  
> When you smiled and said to me  
>  **Are you gonna kiss me or not?**
> 
> **Are we gonna do this or what?  
>  I think you know I like you a lot**  
> But you’re ‘bout to miss your shot  
> Are you gonna kiss me or not?  
> ~Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not? by Thompson Square

On Wednesday, Jesse made deliveries to the Diner before it opened and since he was in town, borrowed Angela’s bike to visit Kings Row. It didn’t occur to him until he saw the hours of operation on the windows that other shops weren’t open. Still, it was nice to get a look at it...if you could call it that.

Kings Row was  located in a row of bustling shops (or...they would bustle if he wasn’t there before the sun had fully risen) with brick facades and colorful awnings that in some places were bleached by the hot summer sun. The little _tapas_ place Gabe recommended was set in the middle of the row with a meagre line of parking stalls just in front of the large windows. There were a few seats positioned in front of the cafe behind a wrought-iron fence decorated with hanging baskets of colorful flowers.

Aside from that, the facade of Kings Row was sad. Where the other shops were faced with sandstone or red brick, the cafe’s exterior was drab gray stone that reminded Jesse of the stereotypes of old London. Though the awning helped to make it more appealing, the facade seemed to suck the life and color of the shops around it. One way to catch someone’s attention, Jesse supposed.

“You okay, love?” a voice asked at his elbow and he nearly shrieked in surprise, turning to find a tired-looking woman peering at him. Her hair stood up in all kinds of crazy directions as if it were fighting back against gravity. She had a smattering of tan little freckles across her small button nose and over her merry cheeks.

“My ‘pologies,” Jesse said, tipping his hat to her.

The woman blinked tiredly at him and just then seemed to notice the hat and his flannel shirt. “A cowboy. What’s a cowboy doing in town?”

Jesse scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I was making deliveries over at Angie’s Diner,” he explained. “But...someone recommended I take a date to Kings Row and I thought…”

“Since you’re in town you’d check it out,” the woman finished with a nod that was slightly more awake. Her brown eyes were merry, less sleepy now. “Well, I’m afraid we’re not open just yet but you’re welcome to pop your head in and check on the menu.”

She waved him up to the doors while she fumbled with her keys to open it. “I can’t stay very long,” Jesse said, honestly regretful. “I don’t even need to go in, really. Do you have a menu online?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “It hasn’t been updated in _months_ though. I keep _telling_ Amelie it’s time to find someone else to run the site.” She grumbled. “Want a coffee? Tea? I make a communal pot so it’s no charge.”

“No thanks,” Jesse assured her quickly. “Ange’s got a bottle of sweet tea waiting for me.”

Ducking behind the counter, the woman flashed a quick smile at him. “Oh, I didn’t introduce myself, did I?” She ducked backwards faster than he expected and held out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Lena, pastry chef here. Let me find you a quick menu.” As soon as the polite duration of a handshake was achieved, she was off again though Jesse took it that it was more that she had a thousand things running through her mind than not wanting to continue shaking his hand.

Jesse looked around. The inside of Kings Row was warm and inviting where the outside facade was not - as if the warmth and joy the drab gray stone pulled from the air settled inside. There were lounge chairs and small tables, warm rugs and a bookshelf that looked to be full of borrowed books. To Jesse’s surprise, there didn’t seem to be much space as a large section was blocked off by the counter and a bakery, giving the illusion that the space was much shallower than the other stores implied. A small hallway showed that there was more and merry signs in French pointed toward the bathrooms but overall though the space in the back was probably explained away by the necessity of a kitchen for a restaurant it didn’t explain why the space still seemed so _narrow_.

Looking around, he saw another door and set of windows despite the cafe being in the center of a row of shops. Peering out one of them, he saw that the dull gray brick facade had hid a small garden area from street view, also decorated with a wrought-iron fence and hanging baskets of flowers. There was more seating out there, with neat tables protected by sun-bleached canvas umbrellas in a rainbow of shades.

Shaking his head at the ingenuity, he crept up to the counter as she dug around behind the till and in the various cabinets scattered around for a handful of menus and a large binder that was falling apart at the seams. “Jesse,” he said belatedly and Lena flashed a quick smile up at him. “Um, just a takeout menu is fine,” he added when she added to the growing pile of papers in front of him.

“Nonsense!” Lena exclaimed as she hefted the binder and ruffled her fingers through its pages. “We’re doing this right! What day are you having your date?”

Jesse scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was nice to have someone help him, even if Lena was pretty much a complete stranger. As if sensing his hesitation, Lena smiled up at him but didn’t press him. “We haven’t set a date yet,” and by the rise of one of Lena’s brown brows, she knew it meant _I haven’t really asked him yet_. “But it’ll probably be a Saturday morning.”

“Kitchen opens at 9 on Saturdays and Sundays for the brunch crowd but we serve lunch then too,” Lena said automatically, flipping through the pages in the binder. “This Saturday we have a special where our ‘ _pan con_ ’ section of our menu comes as a platter. We’re also having a grilled special from around Europe - you can choose from fish, beef, lamb, or chicken and each are prepared to a different country’s style.”

“He might like that,” Jesse said hesitantly as Lena twisted the book around so he could see the handwritten notes. “He’s a chef.”

Lena smiled brightly. “We get a lot of chefs and restaurant workers in here,” she said. “Amelie works with some of the local culinary schools and cooking classes so we have a constant rotation of chefs that bring their own recipes with them.” She held out a menu for him. “This is our in-house menu, which have more of the items than on the take-out.”

“Why?” Jesse asked curiously.

“Well for the take-out menu we made sure to include things that travel with relative ease,” Lena explained. “So you get a good experience either way. The ones that are time-sensitive or rely on something that can’t be transported easily or will deteriorate with time.”

Surprised, Jesse nodded. “That makes sense,” he admitted. “And you said the menu online isn’t updated?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “ _No_ ,” she said over her shoulder as she ducked behind one of the large steel behemoths of a coffee maker on the other side of the frosted glass divide. “We do a menu change about four times a year when we get new culinary students and the ones we have up are from two or three changes ago.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” he told her and she smiled.

“But not to brag or anything, the pastries are just as good if not better than the meals,” she said as she clattered around behind the counter. “I make the croissants, the fresh breads, cakes, cookies, scones, almost all of them unless the culinary schools send a pastry chef. Then I make _most_ of it and have them do the boring bits.”

Jesse smiled though she couldn’t see it. “I heard that you guys have good iced hot chocolates.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Lena said though there was a teasing note to her disembodied voice. “That doesn’t even make sense! An iced hot chocolate is an oxymoron!”

Laughing, Jesse flipped through the menu, taking brief mental notes about the menu items. He wondered how hard he’d have to sell this to Hanzo, the _executive chef_ of a well-known restaurant in Philadelphia.

With Lena’s permission, he took a picture of the brief paragraph about the restaurant in the front fold of the menu and took a quick peek again at the specials before admitting that he had to run off. “Just let me know!” Lena told him as she walked him to the door. “Be glad to have you! Hope to see you soon!”

Feeling lighter than he expected, Jesse rode back to the Diner.

“ _I’ve heard about Kings Row,_ ” Hanzo said to Jesse’s surprise later that night. In the background, the microwave beeped loudly. “ _They employ culinary students, yes?_ ”

“That’s what Lena said - she’s one of the bakers, she told me,” Jesse explained. “And she gave me ideas on the specials they’re having this weekend...that is...if you’re free.”

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line, broken by the scrape of a fork on a bowl and a meow that sounded like something dying rather than the vocalizations of a hungry cat. While eerie, Hanzo explained that Cat always sounded like that and added that in person he sounded like a cat that had been chain-smoking for fifty years and didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

“ _What time this weekend?_ ” Hanzo asked at last.

Jesse cleared his throat. “Well, Lena said the kitchen opens at 9 on either day.”

“ _Just for brunch?_ ”

“No,” Jesse added, thankful that Lena had included that little detail in his talk with her that morning. “They have lunch prepared, too.”

Hanzo was quiet again except for muffled chewing and the scraping noises as the chef ate his late dinner. “ _I usually visit Mother and Hana in the mornings to early afternoons,_ ” Hanzo told him needlessly. “ _This weekend Rishi managed to get a break from the shop so he’s coming up as well. I’m sure he’d be a good distraction for my brother._ ”

“I’m assigned deliveries for Watchpoint again,” Jesse added. “On my time - I have essentially all day off on Saturday.” He didn’t add that it was because Ana knew all and arranged it to be so, not wanting Hanzo to be scared of his adopted mother though he knew that would invariably come later along with the fear of Jesse’s adopted dads.

The chef hummed, muffled by what Jesse assumed was a mouthful of food. “ _I’ll have to coordinate with Rishi,_ ” he said at last. “ _Genji...doesn’t approve._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse said and meant it.

“ _He’s the one that owes you an apology,_ ” Hanzo said tightly. “ _Rishi and I have been speaking to him about it but he’s determined to believe his fears._ ”

“That’s the way siblings work,” Jesse told him as gently as he was able to. “One day ‘Ree came back with a broken nose and I assumed the worse. Nearly got in a fight with her boyfriend at the time thinking he beat her. For months afterward I couldn’t believe she had gotten it at a soccer game even though Ange had seen it happen.”

They were quiet again. “ _I hope it doesn’t take months,_ ” Hanzo said quietly.

Jesse smiled. “Me too,” he agreed. “But things’ll work themselves out.”

Hanzo continued to eat. “ _Saturday will be fine, tentatively,_ ” he said at last. “ _Let me confirm with Rishi tonight...no, tomorrow morning or afternoon and we can set up a time. Unfortunately I’ll still need him to act as a distraction for Genji_.”

“Take your time,” Jesse assured him. “I don’t know how far you live. What would be a good tentative time?”

On the other end of the line, Hanzo yawned. “ _One of my sous chefs is looking for an executive chef position elsewhere,_ ” he said at last. “ _I’ll arrange our schedules so he has some experience before he goes off and leaves us...at first he can have the tail-end of the dinner rush and cleanup on Fridays and we’ll build it up, I think. That’ll let me leave early enough to get more than a handful of hours of sleep._ ”

Jesse pulled the phone back to check the clock. It was already midnight and only a few minutes ago he had heard Hanzo warming up his dish in the microwave. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be a good idea to get some shuteye.” Thinking back, he had usually only seen Hanzo in the later morning before noon or slightly after. It would make sense that he’d sleep late.

“ _The restaurant closes on Fridays at midnight,_ ” Hanzo explained. “ _Later if we still have guests, and we need to be cooking for them. Then we clean up the entire kitchen for morning prep and leave._ ”

“How about we try for 10? 11?” Jesse suggested. “I’ll see if I can settle down a reservation tomorrow, if they do that.”

Hanzo hummed. “ _10 sounds good_ ,” he agreed around a mouthful of food. “ _It’s only an hour’s drive...I think any later and I’ll start hitting traffic._ ”

Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “10 it is. I’ll see if I can get a reservation, then?”

“ _I doubt that a cafe would hold one,_ ” Hanzo cautioned. “ _But depending on how popular it is, they might for the restaurant portion._ ”

“I’ll check,” he promised. “How was work?”

He was fortunate that Hanzo didn’t seem opposed to talking about his day around mouthfuls of food. Jesse listened for what felt like hours as Hanzo spoke and ate, about food that wasn’t prepped in time, sous and line chefs that didn’t prepare things to his standards; waiters that dropped food or ruined meticulous plating.

When Hanzo yawned widely twice in one sentence, Jesse ordered him off to bed. In the background, he could hear Cat’s god-awful groans.

“ _Goodnight, Jesse,_ ” Hanzo said tiredly and with much more feeling than Jesse was used to hearing.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

 

* * *

 

Saturday came far too quickly and started out rough when Jesse woke up with his alarm for the first time in a long time. Still, he and Ree and Zarya and Angie had stayed up late the night before, watching cooking shows and drinking...it stood to reason he was so tired. Despite his nervousness, Jesse still didn’t feel awake after a shower but he forced himself through and got dressed.

Without anything better to do, he pulled on the clothes that Angie had discreetly helped him pick for his date and went down to breakfast. He nibbled on a few slices of fruit and sipped on a hot mug of coffee while Zarya and Ree teased him mercilessly.

He got a small reprieve when they left for their shifts in the fields but it was short-lived as Ana and Jack both teased him as well. It did nothing to soothe his nerves and in fact made it worse when Gabe joined in. Finally having enough, not even 9 in the morning, he flipped them off, jumped in his truck, and drove for Kings Row.

The cafe wasn’t _busy_ , but it at least appeared open this time and Jesse ducked inside. There was a bored-looking teenager in an oversized blue hoodie behind the counter cradling a large mug of coffee. “We’re not open yet,” he said, peering up with tired eyes before he returned to scrying his mug of coffee. He didn’t seem awake or caring enough to usher Jesse out.

“Oi,” a familiar voice said from behind the counter. “Check the clock! We’re open.”

The boy grunted. “Oh,” he said unapologetically. He sipped from his large mug.

“Is that my mug?” the voice demanded and as Jesse watched, Lena poked her head out from behind the refrigerated bakery section. Seeing Jesse, her face lit up. “Jesse! Hey!” She hip-checked the boy out of the way and slipped out from behind the counter. Today she had flour on her face and in the gravity-defying points of her hair and more covering her dark apron. She looked suddenly surprised. “Oh! Is your date today?”

Jesse nodded wordlessly, casting a nervous glance at the teen who continued to scry into the mug of coffee. “I’m a bit early. Nervous.”

Lena clapped her hands, making a small bit of flour puff up into the air like smoke. “No worries,” she said. “We’ll get you settled right as rain. C’mon, my bird Emily can help you!” She led the way across the narrow shop and opened the door he had seen on his first visit to the outside seating. There was a waitress there whose fiery red hair was pulled up into a messy bun on her head. She looked up and smiled at them as they walked out.

“Good morning,” she said with a cheerful smile that held a wicked edge of humor. “Lena, if Amelie catches you away from your ovens she’ll be fit to be tied.”

For her part, Lena rolled her eyes. “Naw, Em, this is Jesse, Jesse this is Em. Emily, that is.”

“Ah,” Emily said as she reached out to shake Jesse’s hand. “ _You’re_ the one with the date, yes?” She laughed as Jesse blushed. “Don’t know how but you got Trace here all worked up about it.

“I wasn’t _that_ worked up,” Lena protested.

Emily shooed her off in the direction of the main cafe. “Go on before Amelie catches you,” she said and turned to Jesse, clicking her tongue. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“Don’t worry!” Lena exclaimed as she backed into the main area of the cafe. “Em will set you to rights!” She blew handfuls of kisses at them and closed the door.

Where Lena’s excitement could transfer to nervous energy, Emily’s was somehow soothing. She fussed with his flannel shirt, helping him to straighten the messy cuffs he had rolled up that morning. With his permission she fussed with his long hair as well, parting his hair briskly before ushering him to a seat.

“Alright,” she said cheerfully. “What time’s your date?”

“Um...10.” Jesse said and checked his phone. 9:16. “I’m a bit early.”

Emily waved it off briskly. “First off, we need to get you something to calm your nerves. Amelie’s got a lovely way about lavender; do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Coffee,” Jesse said faintly.

The waitress clapped her hands. “I’ll fetch you a cup, then,” she told him. “Can I get you anything else? A scone? Some water?”

“I’m not hungry,” Jesse told her weakly.

Emily smiled and patted his wrist. “No worries, we’ll get you fixed up. I’ll bring you something small. Some fruit, maybe? And I’ll bring over that coffee for you.” She bustled off.

Alone, Jesse looked around again. There were colorful awnings here as well and the edges of the open-air space were decorated with flowers on trellises and wrapped around the wrought iron fencing to hide that it was enclosed by brick walls.

“Amelie grows all the flowers,” Emily said, startling Jesse as she set down a good-sized mug and a small clay teapot. “Drives her mad that she can grow flowers but not vegetables, but that’s life I suppose. It saves on cost to keep this place lively at least.” She gave Jesse’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pouring him a cup of coffee. A few lavender blossoms escaped the spout and floated merrily in his coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

Jesse smiled around his nervousness, already feeling the calming effects of the lavender. It wasn’t a spice or scent that Ana had preferred, but Jesse had always liked it and found it soothing.

His mother had a lavender-scented hot pad and the scent clung to her skin and clothes before she died.

Emily set a small plate of berries in front of Jesse and set out a small plate of sliced fruit and berries. “I stole it from Tracer,” she told him with a cheerful wink. “She won’t notice a few fruits missing for her tarts.”

“Thank you,” Jesse murmured to her as he sipped his coffee.

“I’ll be around,” Emily promised. “Just call if you need anything.”

Despite his nervousness, the coffee and lavender _did_ help. The sun was warm on his shoulders and there was a surprising breeze despite the enclosed nature of the space. Peering into the cafe, he saw that it was a bit busier. The tired teenager filled out orders and another barista seemed to have joined him behind the counter, churning out the orders. There were a few people in line and a few others sitting down but no one else seemed ready to brave the restaurant. A few loitered around the bakery and to his surprise, Jesse saw Mean Miss Gallagher there.

She spoke to Lena who gathered pastries for her into a large box lined with wax paper. As if sensing his look, Mean Miss Gallagher turned and looked through the windows. Even with the distance and window between them, he could clearly see the disdainful lift of a single perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

He wondered what she thought, what Lena was babbling on to her about. To his surprise, he saw Emily step forward, distinguished by her bright hair still held back in its messy bun. Mean Miss Gallagher turned away and said something to them that caused them to trade surprised glances. But Lena nodded, closed the box of pastries, and handed them to the woman.

As Mean Miss Gallagher was leaving, she passed a man with an undercut and a bridge piercing and Jesse’s breath hitched just as Emily walked out into the seating area.

“Is that _him_?” she asked in an excited whisper as the door closed behind her. She bustled over to him when he nodded shyly. “Here, let me take that mug and pot for you, there we go. Tuck away those fruits, atta boy.” She dumped his coffee into the pot and tucked the mug into one of the large pockets of her apron. “I’ll bring him over, just trust Tracer to keep him distracted for just a tick.” She eyed him critically and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “There, right as rain. Be right back!”

Jesse fiddled with the tablecloth nervously as Emily tucked away the mug and pot in the service area beside the door. She winked back at him and shot him a discreet thumbs-up and ducked inside.

In no time, Emily was back with Hanzo in tow and Jesse hoped that he wasn’t staring like a crazy person because _damn_ if he thought Hanzo looked good before...now he was dressed in a short-sleeved button-down with a high collar that hugged his chest and biceps. His jeans hugged his legs and hips and the ribbon used to tie his hair in its topknot fluttered in the light breeze.

Belatedly, Jesse realized that he should stand and he scrambled out of his seat...unfortunately the motion wasn’t as graceful as it could have been and he knocked into the table a few times and nearly tripped over his chair and feet.

Much to her credit, Emily took it in stride and at least didn’t laugh in their faces. She sat Hanzo and promised waters before disappearing into the main portion of the restaurant.

“That could have gone better,” Jesse said, plucking at the tablecloth. “But damn darlin’, it’s...it’s great to see you.”

Hanzo smiled shyly, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “You’re early,” he said.

Checking the time, Jesse saw that it was indeed early: 9:39. “Ah,” he said, tugging nervously on his sleeve. “I’ve been here since just after 9.”

“Nervous, cowboy?” Hanzo teased, the faintest warble in his voice indicated that this may have been the reason he had also been early.

“Always nervous to see an angel like you,” Jesse replied. “I’m always afraid that this sinner may be struck down by God for looking upon one of His angels.”

Hanzo blushed prettily. “Flatterer,” he said.

“But it _is_ good to see you,” Jesse told Hanzo as Emily came back with their waters and a few menus shoved on the ties of her apron. “And you _do_ look amazing.”

Emily distracted them both from the awkward attempts at conversation, briskly describing the menu, their specials, and her recommendations on how to order. She also brought two glass goblets of iced hot cocoa courtesy of her and Lena. “She normally delivers the comps,” Emily said cheerfully. “But Amelie gave her a surprise commission so she’s in the back working on that. This is on us - here’s to a good date!”

To Jesse’s surprise, it _was_ despite their initial awkwardness. The iced hot chocolates were delicious and Hanzo ordered another one, admitting that he had a debilitating sweet tooth made worse by the fact that pastry and desserts weren’t his specialty. Throughout their meal they drifted closer together so that their legs - more Jesse’s than Hanzo’s since his legs were much longer than the chef’s - were tangled together under the table and they were able to link their fingers together beside their plates.

Hanzo tapped the wrapping over Jesse’s wound with a concerned frown and spent the meal running the tips of his scarred fingers over the edges of the gauze.

They talked about everything and nothing: North Wind, Jack’s Farm, the undead creature that was Cat. Around them, diners came and went with the brunch and lunch rushes. When it came time for dessert and they asked for a menu, Lena came out instead of Emily.

“Glad you’re still here,” Lena said as she set a covered dish down in the middle of the table. There were bright specks of coloring and frosting dotting her cheeks and arms and her apron was smeared with flour. “Took me a bit longer than I’m accustomed to but what Amelie says is law.” She traded a glance with Emily as she came out with a serving knife and a few clean plates and forks for Hanzo and Jesse to eat. “This here was commissioned for you two by the owner.”

“Probably because Tracer wouldn’t shut up about your date,” Emily teased.

Under the cover was a plain white cake whose sides looked like the spackle on the walls of the buildings in the pictures Jesse had seen of Greece. Lena deftly cut the cake and pulled out a section, triumphantly holding the slice aloft so they could both see it.

The cake was composed not of one or two layers of spongy cake like Jesse had expected, but what seemed like dozens of little layers thinner than a pancake. At the very center of the cake, seemingly impossibly, was a [ rainbow heart ](http://eugeniekitchen.com/mille-crepe-cake-with-hidden-rainbow-heart/). While they stared in shock, Lena sliced up the cake and slid them gently on the plates that Emily held.

“This is too much,” Jesse protested quietly as Emily sat it down in front of him. “I mean...no…”

Emily smiled down at him and squeezed his arm. “Oh!” Lena said and dug around in the pockets of her apron. “This was supposed to go with it.”

Jesse read the card then handed it to Hanzo. It was written in plain cursive and to call it a card was a bit of a stretch as it was little more than a folded-over piece of cardstock.

_To love and be loved is the pinnacle of happiness_

_and riches. May you never lose sight of this precious_

_treasure in all your days together._

_~Amelie Guillard_

 

* * *

 

Lena sat with them to share a piece of her hard work at their insistence and saved a piece for Emily as well. The waitress couldn’t join them, as she had other tables to service, but Lena promised to save her a slice in the back.

Sitting back after his slice, Jesse watched as Hanzo and Lena spoke. The cake she made was called a “mille cake” and she outlined to the two of them how she created the heart at the center. Though Hanzo admitted that pastry and dessert wasn’t his specialty, he knew the concepts and asked her a hundred questions.

A decade ago, Jesse may have gotten bored or frustrated but now, he watched as Hanzo’s entire face lit up as he spoke. Damn _, I’m gay_ , he thought to himself and hoped that he wasn’t smiling stupidly at Hanzo. From the amused glint in Lena’s eyes, this was probably not the case.

Eventually, well into the afternoon, Jesse and Hanzo left Kings Row with their shares of the crepe cake in separate boxes. Jesse walked Hanzo to his car, boldly taking his hand as soon as they leave the cafe and kissing the back of it when they stopped.

“Ah,” Jesse said awkwardly as Hanzo put the small pastry box on the hood of his sports car. “I had a good time.”

Hanzo’s nearly-black eyes cut to him, an almost-smirk on his face as he turns to face Jesse. “I did as well,” he said and tugged gently on their entwined fingers. They were both awkwardly silent for a bit as Jesse scratched the back of his neck with his injured hand. The gauze rolled back at the edges and left a little line of adhesive where it had been laid down that morning.

They stood there awkwardly in front of Hanzo’s nice car, their fingers entwined. “Um, I’ll see you at Watchpoint later?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, sounding a little disappointed but looking like he was trying to hide it. Then his dark eyes flicked up to him. “[Are you gonna kiss me or not](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDUOcHg5ijg)?”

Jesse threw his head back in surprise. They had been so shy with each other, so careful, it was hard to believe that Hanzo would be so bold...yet throughout their - what, courtship? Relationship? - he had always been the one to instigate their previous kisses.

While he blinked, Hanzo blushed and looked down at their linked fingers. “Are we gonna do this or what?” he blurted and tugged on their fingers gently, a nervous habit that Jesse had noticed before. “I think you know I like you a lot but-”

Lunging forward, Jesse wrapped his free arm around Hanzo’s waist and barely held himself back from mashing their faces together. “I’m sorry,” Jesse told him quietly, pulling their linked fingers to his lips. “I didn’t want to rush you.” _Again_ , he thought but didn’t add and from the twist of Hanzo’s lips he heard it regardless. He tightened his grip when Hanzo tried to pull away, tightening his arms just enough to make a point before releasing his grip in case Hanzo took it the wrong way.

“It feels like something we should…”

“Discuss?” Jesse asked as Hanzo’s free arm wrapped a large arm around his waist and tugged him closer.

Hanzo swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I like you a lot,” Hanzo repeated. “And I’d like...to give this a shot.”

“Give _us_?” Jesse asked tentatively.

The chef in his arms smiled gently and leaned forward slightly.

Jesse met him halfway with a matching smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having trouble sleeping because of my anxiety so I managed to pump out more chapters than I had expected this weekend...so here's another one. I'm also super stoked for all the comments I got for the past few chapters I posted so thank you for making my weekend! 
> 
> If my computer-working skills (rather low for someone I'm age, or so I'm told) have paid off, then there's a link to Tracer's rainbow mille cake which I totally have plans of making one day.
> 
> Unfortunately the next few chapters may be a few days' delayed since I need to check through them to make sure that in terms of continuity they're consistent, but that shouldn't take TOO long I hope!
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH for all of the response to this! I love checking my email and seeing all of the comments and kudos! It certainly makes up for all the spam and Alumni Relations emails I also get haha. 
> 
> ~DC


	12. If I Die Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s okay, Ma,” he tried to say.
> 
> Her hands fluttered as if not knowing what to do and he realized that he couldn’t even hold her hand as his was covered with tape and needles. Ana snapped something in Ivrit and leaned her head down on the bed next to his hip.
> 
> “Don’t scare me like that again,” she hissed when she gathered herself. Her good eye continued to stream tears and she looked far older than he had ever seen her.
> 
> “Sorry, Ma,” he said around a thick tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother  
> She’ll know I’m safe with You when  
> She stands under my colors, oh and  
>  **Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no  
>  Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby  
> The sharp knife of a short life  
> Well, I’ve had just enough time**
> 
> If I die young bury me in satin  
> Lay me down on a bed of roses  
> Sink me in the river at dawn  
> Send me away with the words of a love song  
> ~ _If I Die Young_ by The Band Perry

On Tuesday, there was no way that Jesse could delude himself into believing that he wasn’t sick. He slept through his alarm for the first time since middle school and it had been Zarya pounding on his door that got him out of bed. 

Blindly dressing and wrapping his arm, he stumbled down the stairs and climbed weakly into Payload. He nearly scalded himself on the coffee Ana handed him as he passed but chugged it, hoping that the caffeine would wake him up. 

He nearly took the wrong route but caught himself when Zarya pounded on the roof of the cab. “Feel better,” the hands told him as they thanked him and looking in the rearview mirror, Jesse made a face; he looked like shit. 

When he finished his runs and returned to Base for breakfast, Ana is concerned and presses her hands to his cheeks and forehead. “You’re burning up,  _ habibi _ ,” she said with a disapproving click of her tongue. 

“Probably just lack of sleep,” he said with a yawn but knew better than to brush her off. “‘Ve been tired lately.” 

Ana frowned. “Soup,” she decided. “And you won’t make the afternoon runs.” 

Sighing, Jesse brushed his hair out of his face. There was no dissuading Ana, especially when she was in a mothering mood. For the most part she let them run rampant (her first mistake, Jack and Gabe always swore) but there were times that she was basically worry wrapped in scarves. She fussed and hovered but no one had the heart (except for Gabe who always said what was on his mind) to tell her ‘no’ and even then, Gabe knew better. 

“It’s just a cold, Ma,” he told her and not even calling her his mother distracted her. Granted, he sounded weak and shitty even to his own ears but he didn’t like the prickling feel of her eyes on his back as he shuffled tiredly to the breakfast bar.

“Don’t do the lunch runs,” Ana repeated. “Get some sleep.”

Jesse grunted, bringing his plate of  _ shakshuka _ and bread to the table. “What’s for dinner?” he asked instead of arguing. Ana’s word was as good as law. 

“ _ Meorav Yerushalmi _ ,” Ana replied, peering at him. “Make sure you’re awake for it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jesse told her tiredly, using one hand to scoop sauce and eggs on a slice of Ana’s special garlic bread held in the other. He bit his lip against swearing when his hand began shaking; he couldn’t quite hold back the yelp when he tightened his grip and a sharp pain shot up his arm. 

He yowled in pain and the world spun when Ana’s arm shot out and grabbed his left wrist. When his vision cleared, Ana was staring at him. “My car,” she said shortly, in a voice he had never heard her use. “ _ Right now _ .” 

Gripping his arm he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own chair when his knees buckled. Somehow he got to Ana’s car and he suspected that it was some dark sorcery on her part. His limbs felt rubbery by the time he was shoved into the passenger seat and he realized that Ana was muttering to herself in Ivrit. 

“Whassup?” he tried to say as she buckled him in. “Buy me dinner first.” He wasn’t sure what actually came out but he could see Ana’s expression and if his own weakness hadn’t concerned him, her expression would have. 

She looked terrified. 

Jesse closed his eyes.

* * *

A faceless woman in a red cloak sat on a short bench and the way she sat made her skirt, which seemed to be no color in particular, billow outward.She leaned back in a sling around her wait that attached to a bright red strip of fabric attached much like a hammock to a large wooden beam ahead of her. The world around her seemed hazy, as if he were looking at a living photo.

“I had been trying to weave you a blanket,” the woman said. Jesse couldn’t understand how she could when she had no visible mouth but her voice was clear and he had no issue understanding her. “But as you know, I was never very good at this kind of thing.” She sighed and leaned back into the strap around her lower back to look down at the strip of cloth in front of her. Unlike her clothes, the strip of cloth was bright red, clearly so. It was crooked and lumpy and Jesse realized that she was strapped to a loom. 

“Who are you?” Jesse asked and gulped when the featureless face turned to him. 

“Ofelia,” the woman said as if it were obvious. “Because the name you called me is no longer applicable.” 

Jesse frowned as he approached carefully. “What did I used to call you?”

The woman chuckled and creases appeared on her featureless cheeks as if she were smiling. She pointed with a finger that shook and as Jesse turned to follow it, more of the hazy world seemed to come into focus. A small garden like an oasis in a sea of sand. Scrub-like tufts of grass tried to grow from the parched ground in dull green and brown hues. Ofelia sat under an awning like a carport next to an oil stain on the cracked concrete. 

“Where am I?” Jesse marveled. The air was hot and dry, without the clinging humidity of Base or the cool breeze from the sea in the fall when his family went to the shore. The sky was blue and there were no clouds to block the hammer-like strength of the sun. “This place seems familiar.” 

“I would suspect it should,” Ofelia replied and seemed to peer down at her loom. “Ah, I missed a row.” She dug into the canvas bag leaning against the low bench she sat on and pulled out a broken plastic fork which she used to pick at the fabric.

Jesse scowled at her. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ofelia informed him. “You’re quite medicated right now.”

“Medicated?” Jesse echoed. 

“Oh, yes,” the woman replied with a little triumphant  _ ha! _ when the seam she picked at came apart; she tucked the plastic fork back in her bag and picked up a needle with a golden thread. “Heavily medicated.” she nodded meaningfully at his arm. “Didn’t your Ma teach you not to put knives in the sink?”

Jesse scowled at her but she didn’t seem to notice. “I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen.” 

“Then how were you in one to cut yourself?” Ofelia asked. 

“I was helping wash dishes,” Jesse grumbled. 

The faceless woman seemed to smile over her shoulder at him and gestured to the space beside her. From the ground another short bench - really an upside-down milk crate - appeared out of the concrete as if pushed through. “Sit,” she said. “You have a while to wait in real-world time.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jesse demanded. 

“You’d think spending most of your life on a farm would teach you patience,” Ofelia commented. “But your father was the same way so maybe you got it from him.”

Jesse huffed and crossed his arm but realized that his left one felt numb as if it were asleep. Looking down, he found that there was a dotted line just above his elbow with a little black scissors and the words CUT HERE like you’d see on a child’s worksheet. 

“What is wrong with my arm?” he snapped at the woman, taking two large steps and shoving it in her face. 

Ofelia cocked her head, seeming to look first at his arm then up at him. Without eyes or any facial features it was difficult to tell. “You always  _ did _ have a morbid sense of humor,” she said dryly. “Sit,” she repeated and he obeyed with a scowl. “This is what happens when you don’t clean out your wound. That nurse woman, Osiris? Osira?”

“Orisa,” Jesse corrected. 

“Yes,” the woman said with an agreeable nod. “Orisa. Lovely name. Orisa told you to take good care of it. So did your Ma.” 

Jesse frowned at her. Speaking with her, she had a slight accent that he couldn’t quite place but when she said “Ma”, it was with the air of something she hadn’t been entirely used to, as if she was mimicking someone else. “My mother’s dead,” he told her flatly.

“I was talking about your Ma, not your mother,” Ofelia replied, sounding amused. “The scariest woman you ever met,” she added with a good-natured chuckle. “Whose glare could stop anyone in their tracks even though she’s missing an eye.”

“Ana,” Jesse realized. “You’re talking about Ana.” 

Ofelia nodded. “She’s your second mother, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jesse said faintly. “How do you know?”

“You’re medicated,” Ofelia replied dryly. “I’m just a figment of your imagination, I’m sure.” 

Jesse peered at her. “Is that why you don’t have a face?”

The woman stopped and turned to him as if surprised. One gnarled hand reached up to touch her face. “I don’t have a face?” Her fingers skated over featureless skin. “Hmm. I suppose you haven’t seen me in...oh, twenty years? It certainly has been a while - it doesn’t surprise me too much you don’t remember what I look like.”

Still, she sounded so sad that Jesse instinctively reached out with his right hand to touch her wrist. It was dwarfed in his hand, depressingly small and it shook beneath his touch. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ofelia said. “I’m not even _ real _ and I’m getting upset over something silly like not having a face.” 

“It’s okay,” Jesse said awkwardly. “I’d be upset too.” 

Ofelia huffed a watery laugh. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she said and wiped at where Jesse thought her eyes would be with the hand that Jesse wasn’t holding. “You weren’t really one to be too upset over anything.” 

“You say that you know me,” Jesse said cautiously. “And you know my father.” 

The woman sighed. “Help me up,  _ vaquero _ ,” she said. “My old bones are weak. Let’s look at the garden.” 

Looking at the dusty yard, Jesse doubted that there  _ could _ be such a thing but didn’t argue, helping Ofelia free herself from the strap of her loom and get to her feet. He followed her, clinging to a frightfully thin arm to keep her steady as she took him around the dilapidated shed.

“Oh,” Ofelia said as they looked around. “I suppose you might not remember them.”

“Remember what?” Jesse asked, looking at the barren patch of dirt, upset but not sure why. “Did you live here?”

Ofelia sighed and like the milk crate earlier, a sun-bleached beach chair rose up from the dusty ground. “I used to take you here,” she said. “But you may have been too young to remember.” 

“I don’t remember,” Jesse admitted. 

At her gesture, Jesse helped her sit down in the chair and she groaned. “That’s no fun,” she said. “I was hoping the flowers would be blooming.”

“What flowers?” Jesse asked, peering at the parched soil and the dry brush. . 

“I’m a figment of your imagination,” Ofelia reminded him dryly. “If you don’t know, then I certainly don’t.”

Jesse sighed. “Can you magic up a chair for me too?” he asked plaintively. 

“You never wanted one,” Ofelia told him matter-of-factly. “You’d always sit on the ground at the edge of the garden box.” 

“If I don’t remember that, then why do you?” Jesse wanted to know.

Ofelia shrugged. “You’re drugged,” she reminded him. “My existence is...strange.” 

“So you sometimes know and sometimes don’t,” Jesse grumbled. 

“Whatever details are most in your head,” Ofelia explained. “Clearly you remember not sitting and maybe even my weaving. You remember me but not what I look like.” 

There was an odd sensation and Jesse looked down and found the bottom half of his left arm missing. He tried not to scream.

“Calm down,” Ofelia told him kindly, trying to reach for him. “Come and sit with me.” 

Jesse couldn’t be calm - he didn’t  _ want _ to be calm. “ _ My arm is gone! _ ” he shrieked. “ _ How do you expect me to be calm? _ ”

“Your Ana was worried for you,” Ofelia replied. “Do you think she will let you die? Why do you think it’s missing so cleanly?”

“I don’t want to look,” Jesse hissed. 

“Well, you saw the ‘cut here’, yes? Why do you think it was there?” Ofelia asked with brutal practicality. “Some part of you  _ had _ to know that there was something wrong with your hand.” 

Jesse looked down at his hand before remembering that it wasn’t there. He groaned when he saw the stiff black sutures and the flap of skin that covered the pointy nub of what remained of his arm.

“Don’t look if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ofelia told him. When he looked at her, he screamed. She had eyes now, but they were empty black pits that dripped congealed blood. 

 

* * *

Jesse opened his eyes. There was a quiet beeping coming from nearby and a rhythmic wheezing that threatened to put him back to sleep; it was strangely soothing. 

He blinked blearily and found what seemed like to be the entirety of a florist’s inventory. There was a vase of his mother’s flowers as well and he smiled which made something pull on his face. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” someone said and Jesse blearily turned his head to the doorway. It was a nurse, backlit by the well-lit hallway and Jesse realized that the reason his room was so dim was because it was dark outside. The nurse walked in and stopped at the side of his bed. “How are you feeling?” 

Jesse blinked. “What happened?” 

The nurse smiled sympathetically. “The best way to describe it...is to tell you that you had a cut that was infected. It was so bad that we were concerned about severe septicemia...we had to amputate.” 

To his shame, Jesse felt tears well up in his eyes. “Amputate?” he asked in a croak. 

“Shhh,” the nurse said and squeezed his right hand. His fingers felt like rubber sausages, the sensation muted and he tried to squeeze her hand back but they refused to move. “I”m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you that,” she told him sincerely. “I know it’s a lot to process.” 

Jesse gave an embarrassing whimper when he looked down at his arm. It was swaddled in thick gauze and if he was measuring with his eyes correctly, it ended just around his elbow. His mind went, unbidden, to his hazy dream and the “cut here” line. His eyes felt heavy. “You’re drugging me,” he accused the nurse who had a hand on the IV drip leading to his arm.

“Yes,” she admitted honestly.

“‘Ppreciate yer c’ndor,” Jesse slurred. 

The nurse patted his wrist. “Your family’s been worried,” she told him and he tried to cling to her words. “And all of your friends. For what it’s worth, we’re not worried about you at all after this.”

“S-sep-”

“That’s another story,” the nurse said as she straightened. If she said anything else, it was lost in the haze of medication that swallowed Jesse whole. 

* * *

The faceless woman Ofelia was kneeling in the dirt when Jesse saw her again. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing,” she admitted. “Would you mind helping me?”

“Should you be on the ground like this?” Jesse asked, thinking about her shakes from the last time he had interacted with her.

“Bah,” she said, waving off his concern like an annoying fly. “I’ve done worse. Licked lead paint; drank from the hose; played in the streets. You don’t see  _ me  _ sitting idle, do you?”

Jesse looked around and spotted a little shoebox of gardening tools. A smaller box rose from the ground beside it with smaller tools. “But you’re dead,” he pointed out.

The woman paused. “I suppose I am,” she said at last. “Or dying, maybe. My old bones ache,  _ mi sol _ .”

“Only one person ever called me that,” Jesse said, staring down at the child-sized tools. They were as blurry as Ofelia’s skirt but the threadbare gardening gloves tucked into the very bottom were as bright as the woman’s weaving. He tugged them out of the box, ignoring the clatter it caused as it rearranged the tools, and let them drape across his hand. “And she’s dead.”

“I’m just a memory of her, then,” Ofelia replied. “And I’m dying too.” When Jesse looked up, she seemed to smile. “You don’t even remember what I look like.”

Tentatively, Jesse sat beside her in the hard dirt. “Are you angry?”

“Anything I say is just an extension of your subconscious,” Ofelia pointed out. “ _ But _ , with as much autonomy as I can claim, I can tell you that I’m not angry – it’s been a  _ long time _ ,  _ mijo _ , and you’re only human.”

Jesse swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything and help me with this,” Ofelia replied. “ _ I  _ don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m sure you do.”

Pulling out a child-sized spade, Jesse set to work. It was awkward with only one working hand – and somehow seeing his bandaged stump was less of a disturbing thing, now, but that was probably the drugs in his system – but soon they cracked the hard desert clay. Beneath it, impossibly, was good dark soil. Ofelia was a good listener as he continued to spout information about dirt and growing conditions, of how this soil was clearly not from New Mexico, but didn’t complain.

Eventually, wheezing, she sat back and tipped her head back under the awning of the shed behind her. “You don’t look so good,” Jesse commented.

“I’m dying,  _ mijo _ ,” Ofelia replied dryly. “Of  _ course _ I don’t look good.”

Jesse peered down at the garden. “What should we plant?”

“Whatever’s on your mind,” Ofelia suggested. “This is a dream, remember?”

Green shoots began to sprout in front of him, growing taller and taller until they were hazy sunflowers in muted colors as if they had been faded by the sun. With a start, Jesse realized that he wasn’t even entirely sure what exactly his mother’s famous sunflowers looked like anymore – he was so used to his own variant he had developed.

The sunflowers aged weeks in the span of a few seconds, their round black faces filling with seeds and then falling as the plant died. More took their place, more vibrant than the muted colors around him. They were his  _ amarillas  _ variants, their flowers at their biggest no larger than a silver dollar. In a wave more of his other variants sprouted, weeks and months of growing condensed down to a handful of seconds.

The  _ amarillas _ flew across the small garden bed, a riot of bright yellow and brilliant green stems and leaves. They had a bright red heart clustered at the very center of their tiny, pinched flowers. Truthfully, they weren’t his mother’s flowers but rather a variant of sunflower entirely separate from the ones she grew. To test his skill he had created them to match hers.

Next came his little  _ chicas _ , their heads no larger than a circle made by his pointer finger and thumb. Then, of course, came the larger flowers, the one that had earned him Hanzo’s attention with their deep burgundy hearts that faded into gold.

“If you’re a figment of my imagination, what good is it to show them to you?” Jesse asked bitterly as the large flowers (he had named them the  _ Ofelias _ , a secret he had only shared with Ana) withered away to nothing. Something else was growing, the ground churning as if covered with ants.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s work,” Ofelia replied. “And you had always been a humble child.”

“But impatient,” Jesse said, thinking of her words from another lifetime.

The faceless woman chuckled. “But impatient,” she agreed. “You got it from your father, drat that man.” Her voice was only fond, and Jesse looked down at the churning ground. “What are you thinking of now?”

“Hanzo,” Jesse admitted. “I think you’d like him.”

“I’d agree with you,” Ofelia replied. “But, I  _ am _ you in a sense.”

Jesse sighed. “Do you think he’d l-... _ like _ me still?”

“Of course,” Ofelia replied immediately. From the tilt of her head, she heard the words he didn’t say. “What reason does he have to suddenly change his mind?” Frowning back at her, he wiggled his stump arm. “So you’ve got a little cut.”

“A ‘little cut’ led me to this mess,” Jesse grumbled. “This is somewhat  _ more _ of just a ‘little cut’!”

Ofelia sighed as the strange plant began to grow. It looked almost like one of Ana’s rosebushes, all prickly leaves and thorns. Buds appeared and bloomed into wide cups of pale pink flowers and infused the air with a gentle fragrance – like honeysuckle and rosemary, sweet and resinous with a hint of the sea.

“You’re right,” she said as they watched the strange plant grow. It shot outward then upward, then twisted around in a riotous tangle; pink flowers faded and now there were rainbows of them, green and blue and purple and pink and red and gold in hundreds of hues as the plant continued to rise upward.

“I’m right?” Jesse asked suspiciously.

Ofelia nodded when he looked at her. There were shadows of facial features now that he knew what to remember, as if he stared through waxed paper at her: a vague shape of a nose; shadows of eyes; the barest brush of a mouth. “You’re right,” she repeated. “One such as Hanzo Shimada could not be bothered with such a cripple. He would never be caught dead speaking to one for they are so beneath him.”

Annoyed, Jesse scowled at her. “You’re mocking me,” he accused.

“His own niece – or is it his daughter? – is crippled,” Ofelia told him firmly. “She is missing her legs and one arm is in a cast, which you signed,  _ mijo _ . Her friend at Watchpoint is also crippled –  _ he _ is missing both his legs, and arm, and a few fingers. Are you telling me that his interactions with them are only a sham? For what end?”

Jesse looked down, chastened. “But I’m not Hana,” he said quietly.

“No,” Ofelia agreed. “You’re something  _ more _ – but only if you let yourself.”

“I want a normal dream,” Jesse complained.

“If I was real, I’d smack you,” Ofelia told him flatly. A slight accent crept into her voice that wasn’t quite right. “Listen to your  _ padres, _ now. The world is full of mistakes –  _ your life _ will be full of mistakes, of bad choices, of wrong turns along the way – but the only way it will define you is if you let it.” A shadow appeared on the wall behind her: a tall man in a Stetson who flipped up the brim of it up as if to look closer at Jesse. “Your Hanzo – and he  _ is _ yours, he told you on your date – is scared. He’s concerned about you; he’s been sitting at your bedside for  _ hours _ . He hasn’t shied away once.”

Jesse blinked. “It’s just my imagination talking. Han doesn’t know.”

“How long have you been out?” Ofelia wanted to know. “You woke up at night, remember? It’s been at least a day and you’ve been texting nonstop when either of you can afford to take a break. He has to know something’s wrong when you haven’t responded.”

Ofelia and the silhouette gestured for Jesse to sit beside them and he obeyed, curling his legs up and wrapping his good arm around them. The man’s shadow moved against the wall and ground until he sat with his legs outstretched, leaning comfortably against the wall; his hand appeared on Jesse’s opposite shoulder and he felt a hand that wasn’t there squeeze it gently.

“ _ Mijo _ ,” Ofelia said gently, running her shaking fingers through his hair. “You’ve only known each other for a few weeks but you’ve already been through  _ alot  _ with each other. Do you think a little accident like this will keep him from you?”

“Yes,” Jesse said weakly.

“Why would it?” Ofelia wanted to know. “When Hana and Bastian have…similar issues?”

To his shame, Jesse felt hot tears draw tracks on his cheeks. “Why would he want someone that’s broken?”

The plant, unnoticed, had fallen over in its garden bed. Now shoots wiggled across the ground like snakes and tugged at the ragged hems of his jeans like children vying for attention. They swarmed just in front of him, tapping his feet and legs through his jeans.

A large bud formed in the tangled nest just in front of his toes. It grew and grew silky white petals like a magnolia until it surpassed even that size. As large as a plate it paused and began to bloom, petals falling away to reveal, of all things, a slice of cake.

It was the mille cake from his and Hanzo’s date, clearly a few days old – the coloring in the frosting was beginning to run, the frosting itself looking watery as if it had been outside for a long time and had begun to melt. Amelie Guillard’s card leaned against it.

From the vines beside him, vegetables seemed to appear and finally a pair of crossed chef’s knives not unlike the tattoo around Hanzo’s bicep.

“You’ll see,” Ofelia said confidently, tucking her fingers under his jaw. The silhouette-shadow squeezed his shoulder again and the sensation of a warm body pressed against his side.

* * *

Jesse opened his eyes.

The room was well-lit now, the sun’s rays peering through the curtains and illuminating the waltz of dust motes above the tropical jungle in his room. A movable bed tray was tucked aside and two slices of Lena’s rainbow mille cake lay half-eaten, the whipped cream frosting running down the sides in sad tears as it melted. Beyond them, tucked uncomfortably into the garish hospital chairs, were Ana and Hanzo. Ana was leaning against Hanzo’s broad shoulders, arched uncomfortably over the hard plastic armrest to rest her head on his large bicep and both had thin felt blankets wrapped around their shoulders.

“They were worried sick,” a quiet voice next to him said and Jesse lolled his head, feeling weak and too-heavy on his neck, to look at the new voice. “Everyone was.”

It took him a moment to place the dark-skinned man. “Dr. Winston?”

“Yes,” the man said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

Jesse blinked. “Tired.”

“You’ve been out for a while,” Dr. Winston from Watchpoint said kindly. “With some pretty strong antibiotics. Do you know what happened?” He reached for a paper cup and a plastic water bottle on the small table next to him. “Are you thirsty?”

Dr. Winston helped him drink, steadying Jesse’s head and neck with a large hand with an ease that spoke of long practice. “My hand,” Jesse said, feeling more awake. “They took it.”

“Yes,” Dr. Winston said with a sad nod. “There was…ah…a severe infection.”

“I thought it was getting better,” Jesse mumbled tiredly. “It closed up and everything but it was still red.”

Dr. Winston nodded. “It was deeper than any of us thought it was,” he said kindly, his dark eyes flicking to the sleeping forms of Ana and Hanzo. “What we think happened is that the wound closed up superficially and the infection started below.”

Jesse peered down at his arm and found that it was tucked under the blankets – likely to prevent him from panicking. He could appreciate the gesture. “Is it all gone?” he didn’t like how weak he sounded but Dr. Winston’s eyes were kind.

“We’re not sure yet,” he said gently. “But the levels in your blood are very low. Not that you’ve been awake, but they’re taking blood multiple times a day to test and it’s gone down fairly quickly. You’ll still be on antibiotics to kill the last of it for some time,” he cautioned. “But you’re doing much better than when Ms. Amari brought you in.”

“Why am I so tired?” Jesse asked as his eyes fluttered.

“It’s to be expected,” Dr. Winston replied. “You had a lot of very strong drugs in your system. Would you like more water?”

As Dr. Winston was helping him drink another cup of water –  _ slowly, now, we don’t want your body to reject it _ – Ana woke up and immediately started crying, which woke Hanzo who met Jesse’s eyes, looked away, and nearly ran out of the room. Patting Jesse’s hand, Dr. Winston told him that he needed to make a phone call and left him alone with Ana.

“It’s okay, Ma,” he tried to say.

Her hands fluttered as if not knowing what to do and he realized that he couldn’t even hold her hand as his was covered with tape and needles. Ana snapped something in Ivrit and leaned her head down on the bed next to his hip.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she hissed when she gathered herself. Her good eye continued to stream tears and she looked far older than he had ever seen her.

“Sorry, Ma,” he said around a thick tongue.

Ana found a safe place to grip on his upper bicep and scooted her chair to accommodate her position. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “We were  _ all _ so scared.”

“’m here, Ma,” Jesse mumbled and scooted over in the narrow hospital cot. She climbed in with him, very carefully arranging his various tubes and attached machines so she wouldn’t accidentally pull them out.

A nurse poked her head in and Jesse tried to raise a hand to indicate she should be quiet but winced at the pain and the realization that his one good arm was taken by Ana’s arm as a pillow. Still, the nurse seemed to understand and smiled.

“Good to see you’re awake,” she whispered. “And good to see that she’s asleep. Her and the man with the undercut – we had to chase them away at night.”

Hanzo? Jesse didn’t say anything on that. “Good to be awake. Had some weird dreams.”

“I’ll bet,” the nurse replied, checking his chart. She gently peered at his IVs and the drip stand, checked the breaching and EKG machines, then came back around to Jesse’s bad side. “It’ll sting,” she warned and lifted his stump.

“Sting” didn’t do it justice. It  _ burned _ and Jesse sucked in a breath that he hoped Ana wouldn’t feel. She slept on.

“Look away,” the nurse suggested. “I need to change your bandages. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t wake up ten minutes later or you’d be spared this.”

Jesse obeyed, not yet ready to look at the remains of his arm. “How long’ve I been out?”

“Two days,” the nurse replied. “It was a rough time, but you’re doing a lot better for what it’s worth.”

“I don’t  _ feel _ a lot better,” Jesse told her.

“You won’t,” the nurse said sympathetically. “Your body’s still fighting it and you’re not completely better just yet. Once you get going, though, you’ll be fine.” They were quiet for a bit as the nurse continued to fuss with his arm. “I’ll turn your painkillers back on.”

“Will I pass out?” Jesse asked.

The nurse smiled. “I won’t turn it on  _ as _ high,” she amended. “Just enough to take some of the sting off. Or would you rather just pills?”

“Pills, please,” Jesse said immediately, thinking of the faceless woman from his dreams.

With a smile and a promise to return, the nurse disappeared through the door. Dr. Winston came back before she returned, tucking his phone into his breast pocket. “Orisa wanted an update,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw Ana. “I’m glad she’s finally getting some rest. She and Hanzo had been worrying themselves to death.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Jesse murmured and winced when he wiggled his stump.

Dr. Winston blinked as the nurse came back but thankfully said nothing. They helped him take his pills and lay back in his bed. He and Dr. Winston spoke until Jesse couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's dream is kind of based on one I had recently about my uncle. Uncle Charlie died about ten years or so ago and while I can recognize him in pictures, I can't really actively remember his face so my memory of the dream I had where he was in it his face was kind of blurred out for me. 
> 
> Sorry for the...strangeness and the delay in getting this posted. I had a few things come up in life that I think are as handled as they're going to get but we shall see. 
> 
> I have a few more chapters almost ready to post so I'll be gradually feeding those along haha. 
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH for all of the kudos and comments!! I always look forward to hearing all of you and your thoughts on the chapter! Thank you for all your support of this silly little thing of mine. 
> 
> ~DC


	13. Sleeping with the Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 Missed Call - Jesse McCree
> 
> 1 New Voicemail - Jesse McCree
> 
> Frowning, Hanzo pulled up the text message chain he had with the man...his boyfriend…? Somehow that still seemed too childish, too rudimentary and yet...isn’t that what they were?
> 
> There were no messages today; the most recent exchange was last night when they bid each other goodnight just after midnight. Hanzo’s frown deepened. While speaking on the phone with Jesse wasn’t uncommon, he never called him without texting him first. Nervously, he queued up the voicemail and pressed the phone to his ear. 
> 
> “Hanzo, this is Ana...from Jack’s Farm,” the woman sounded uncharacteristically weak and Hanzo’s heart leapt into his throat. “I’m sorry for calling like this. Please call me back as soon as you can.” She gave her number and repeated the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I cry  
> ‘Cause I’m all alone  
> And the nights get so cold and long  
> And I try not to think he won’t come home  
> But I’m sleeping with the telephone
> 
> **I lose him in my darkest dreams  
>  And my blood runs cold and my heart skips a beat  
> So I get up, I can’t take anymore  
> Sometimes I hate how much I love him  
> But everyday I love him more**
> 
> **And I try not to think he won’t come home  
>  But I’m sleeping with the telephone**
> 
> Something awakes me from where he should be  
> I reach for him, the telephone rings.  
> ~ _Sleeping with the Telephone_ by Reba McEntire ( & Faith Hill)

 

The kitchen was noisy in the middle of lunch rush. Chefs and cooks were shouting, Roland the expediter yelled another order and a gaggle of waiters fussed over a few plates before they were dispersed like an unruly flock of birds. Hanzo watched his newest cook flambé a sauce with a critical eye and deciding it wasn’t worth his attention – she was doing very well at it – he turned back to his station.

Maria smiled at him as she handed over the greens he had requested. She had a gap-toothed smile and her eye makeup was always neat and perfect. It irrationally annoyed Hanzo though he knew that a part of his annoyance – and her makeup – was due to her blatant infatuation with him.

“They’re not cut right,” he told her shortly. “Fix it.”

Her smile didn’t waver as she walked away. She likely thought it was his way of saying that he wanted to see her again. That was just the way she is: whenever he turned her down, she convinced herself of something completely different. Another thing about her that he didn’t like.

And then there was her work; don’t get him _started_ on her work but he was loathe to fire her because taking her on was as a favor to Luis and Herbalist Tang.

Luis shoved a handful of greens in Hanzo’s hands when her back was turned with a sympathetic smile. Unsurprisingly _these_ passed inspection and Hanzo nodded his thanks. Another plate was added to the cluster in front of Roland. “Table twelve,” he roared and the mousy little waitress in charge of that table hopped forward. A busboy helped her carry the large plates out of the kitchen.

In his breast pocket, protected by a small cover and a button, his cellphone began ringing. Tomko, the only one close enough to hear, flashed a quick smile. “ _Someone calling you,_ oyabun?” she asked in Japanese.

Hanzo made a face. In the kitchen, they called him _oyabun_ \- a name for the leader of a yakuza clan - because he required absolute obedience. His intimidating tattoo sleeves didn’t help, either, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset at their joking fear of him because while they respected him, he knew that they weren’t _afraid_ of him.

“ _Probably my brother,_ ” he replied in the same language, accepting the seared salmon she offered him. “ _Being a whiny shit_.”

Tomko giggled, twisting back to her position at the fish station. She was a housewife friend his mother had met at a fishmonger’s stall in the Philadelphia Chinatown area. Though she didn’t have any formal culinary training, she had generations of recipes floating around in her memory and Hanzo had never once had an issue with the seafood station if he put her in charge of it.

They both looked up as Roland slapped his big hand on the bell. “Order up!” he roared. “ _Big table!_ ”

Hanzo’s phone gave another stubborn ring then chirped to let him know that he had a voicemail. Shaking his head, he put it out of his mind and began rallying his troops. Extremely late, Maria brought him a fistful of greens and was diverted by Luis as he turned to his chosen station of the night, the grill.

They were well into the lull between lunch and dinner service when he remembered the phone call. Washing his hands, he ducked into the walk-in - which everyone knew was his favorite hiding spot - to check his messages.

_1 Missed Call - Jesse McCree_

_1 New Voicemail - Jesse McCree_

Frowning, Hanzo pulled up the text message chain he had with the man...his boyfriend…? Somehow that still seemed too childish, too rudimentary and yet...isn’t that what they were?

There were no messages today; the most recent exchange was last night when they bid each other goodnight just after midnight. Hanzo’s frown deepened. While speaking on the phone with Jesse wasn’t uncommon, he never called him without texting him first. Nervously, he queued up the voicemail and pressed the phone to his ear.

“ _Hanzo, this is Ana...from Jack’s Farm_ ,” the woman sounded uncharacteristically weak and Hanzo’s heart leapt into his throat. “ _I’m sorry for calling like this. Please call me back as soon as you can._ ” She gave her number and repeated the message.

Mumbling the number to himself to remember it, he keyed it into his phone and hit CALL before he could talk himself out of it.

Ana answered the phone on the third ring but didn’t speak into the receiver for a few second. There were voices in the background and he heard Ana sniff. “ _Ana Amari_ ,” she answered.

“Apologies,” Hanzo said. “I did not realize it was you calling me. This is Hanzo Shimada.”

There was a long moment of silence and a muffled sound that sounded uncomfortably like a half-sob. “ _Hello, Hanzo,_ ” she said. “ _I apologize for calling you from Jesse’s phone._ ”

“Is something wrong?” Hanzo asked, a lump rising into his throat. Suddenly his refuge seemed even colder, as if it were sucking everything from him.

Ana made a sound that in a lesser woman Hanzo would call a whimper. She said the two words that he had been subconsciously dreading. “ _It’s Jesse._ ”

* * *

_“Are you even_ listening _?”_

_Hanzo fixed her with an unamused stare as the toe of the foot not currently in his hand poked his stomach. In retaliation, he gripped the tiny ankle in one hand and used the nail of the other to jab into the ticklish arch of Ha-Yun’s foot. She squeaked and tried to jerk her foot away. “Of course,” he lied._

_“Liar,” she teased breathlessly when he stopped tickling her. Hanzo jerked his hand toward her foot again and she twitched, anticipating him tickling her again. “_ You _ruined it,” she groaned in Korean when he simply went back to kneading her sore feet; now that her mind was on the idea of being tickled in her feet, she couldn’t enjoy it._

_Smirking, Hanzo switched feet, grabbing the other when it moved to poke him again. He moved his hands, warm and sure, up her calf to the back of her knee; Ha-Yun groaned in bliss as he massaged her tight calf. “You were talking about Hana.”_

_“I was talking about_ you _and Hana,” Ha-Yun corrected. “See? You_ weren’t _listening.”_

_“She’s doing good in school,” Hanzo tried._

_Ha-Yun glared at him. “Not what I was talking about,_ oppa _.”_

_Shrugging, Hanzo turned his attention back to the TV as he continued to knead the stiff muscles in Ha-Yun’s calf. She’d always had delicate legs and feet…and arms…well, she’d always been a tiny thing. Where Hanzo was bulky in his chest and arms, she was reed-thin; it looked like a stiff breeze would snap her like a twig. When she was pregnant with Hana, it looked like someone had taped a beach ball to her belly. Her feet and legs hadn’t quite recovered and even now had a tendency to swell and become tender when standing for too long. Hanzo and Genji were always willing to provide this service to her, though, so she didn’t necessarily suffer…at least for too long._

_“And she’s doing good in school because_ someone _keeps teaching her geometry,” Ha-Yun added and turned off the TV. “It’s important, Han.”_

_She knew how he felt about nicknames; that she used one now meant that she really wanted his attention. He pinched her Achilles tendon and pushed her foot back. After a moment of kneading it, he let her foot relax and rested his hand over a tiny ankle; he twisted to look at her._

_Ha-Yun was a tiny thing that looked like she hadn’t aged past fifteen but what she lacked in stature she made up in fire. It had taken a long time for them to cultivate it, though. Hanzo remembered when she first came to live with them, how quiet she had been, hiding in corners and squeaking at any attention directed toward her. Now she acted like she was worthy of the space she took and defiantly met the stare of anyone that challenged her._

_It made something warm bloom in Hanzo’s chest. “Yes,” he teased. “Geometry is an important skill to master.”_

_The look she gave him was murderous, or would be if he didn’t see the amusement in her dark brown eyes. He squeezed her ankle – gently – in apology. “Do you love Hana?”_

_Hanzo frowned. “More than I love her mother.”_

_Ha-Yun flipped him off. “Seriously.”_

_“_ Seriously _. Hana doesn’t torment me like her mother does.” He received a firm kick to his thigh; with his free hand, he covered his groin in case she got any ideas._

_“_ You’re worse than your brother _,” Ha-Yun groaned in Korean._

_“_ I like to think I’m better _,” Hanzo replied in the same language. “_ Older and wiser and all that. _”_

_Ha-Yun groaned and removed her feet from his lap, crossing her legs. “Be serious,” she said in English._

_“It’s after midnight,” Hanzo pointed out. “If you want Serious Hanzo, you should wait until morning.”_

_The look he received was murderous. “It i_ s _morning,” she hissed. “And this is_ important _.”_

_Hanzo sighed and mirrored her pose, keeping a hand on the inside of his thigh in case she tried to kick him again. With his other hand, he twined their fingers together. “You know I’m listening,” he told her quietly._

_“_ Listening yes, but taking it seriously? _” Ha-Yun wanted to know. He knew he screwed up when she spoke in Japanese and squeezed her hand. She sighed and looked away. “Hana doesn’t have a father,” she said quietly. “In truth she has you and Genji and_ Sobo _-Aimi, but in paper – legally – she only has me.”_

_Hanzo frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”_

_“_ Sobo _-Hana down the street died,” Ha-Yun said flatly. Though Hanzo was sad, he wasn’t entirely surprised as he was fairly certain that_ Sobo _-Hana was born in the Stone Age. “She didn’t settle her accounts and how her children are fighting over every penny she had. Did you know she was taking care of her granddaughter?” Everyone knew that_ Sobo _-Hana’s granddaughter, Aiko, was really taking care of_ her _and not the other way around, but Hanzo knew better than to point that out. He’d probably get kicked again. “Well in word, she was left with everything but in paper it was nothing.”_

_“I didn’t know that,” Hanzo said quietly._ Sobo _-Hana had been a fixture in the apartments above the flower shop for as long as anyone on the street could remember; she was the unofficial Queen of the street and owned a majority of the apartments there. Though everyone knew she was as mortal as anyone else, it really did seem that she would live forever. Even the thought of_ Sobo _-Hana no longer watching the world pass by from her window was strange._

_He made a mental note to get a condolence card and deliver a token to the family._ Sobo _-Hana was important to their family and had helped them more than once when they were in need._

_Ha-Yun continued. “Herbalist Tang told me,” she told him. “He used to deliver her herbal tea.”_

_“Herbalist Tang is always gossiping,” Hanzo murmured. He had lost count of how many times he had found the herbalist and his husband gossipping with his mother in their small Chinatown apartment._

_“Yes,” Ha-Yun said sourly. “And Jessica the medium said that she died from a broken heart.”_

_Hanzo snorted. “Jessica’s full of shit.”_

_He received a glare in reply. “Heart failure,_ oppa _,” she hissed. “Herbalist Tang said that she had trouble with her heart.”_

_“And basically every other major organ,” Hanzo replied. “Liver and kidney failure, her old bones disintegrating, lung cancer from the cigars she smokes, gum cancer from the chewing tobacco. I think the only major organ that_ wasn’t _failing was her skin!”_

_Impatiently, Ha-Yun waved that off. “Not the point,” she snapped. “And don’t speak ill of the dead!”_

_“I’m speaking ill of_ Jessica _, not_ Sobo _-Hana,” Hanzo replied. “You know I have nothing but respect for_ Sobo _.”_

_Ha-Yun snorted but even she couldn’t argue with that. Everyone respected_ Sobo _-Hana because even hundreds of years old (or so speculation claimed) she could be incredibly mean with her ivory cane and her sharp tongue. Despite that, no one was truly afraid of her; everyone loved_ Sobo _because she had the kindest heart._

_“Well, Jessica said that she died of a broken heart,” Ha-Yun said. “And Herbalist Tang said the same thing…different wording, but the same thing. Then Jessica said that my aura was diminishing.”_

_Hanzo couldn’t help but scoff. “Jessica is full of shit.”_

_The look Ha-Yun gave him told him what she thought of that statement. “She was right about Mr. Miller down the street,” she pointed out. “He died last year while in surgery. And Mrs. Pierce went to her for a reading two years ago-”_

_“And Mr. Pierce committed suicide the next month,” Hanzo finished with her. “Ha-ha, it’s just coincidence.”_

_Ha-Yun didn’t even smile at the brothers’ childhood nickname for her. “The point_ is _,” she said impatiently. “That we’re all mortal; we’re all going to_ die _…and I don’t know what will happen to Hana.”_

_Hanzo squeezed the hand he held. “You know we’ll be here for her,” he said soberly._

_“Legally? There’s nothing that says you will,” Ha-Yun told him. “That’s what I’m worried about. While you fight it out with whatever legal system, what will happen to Hana then?”_

_“What do you want?” Hanzo asked quietly._

_Ha-Yun’s lips trembled. “I want to name you a legal guardian,” she said. “Mrs. Yang said she will draft up the papers and sign as notary if you agree.” Mrs. Yang was a lawyer down the street. In exchange for the brothers cooking for her for the duration of the case, she assisted them – almost entirely_ pro bono _– in winning the legal battle against Ha-Yun’s now-ex-husband and earning her and her daughter a very strict restraining order against him._

_Hanzo took her other hand in his and squeezed them. “Jessica’s full of shit,” he repeated. “But if it will give you peace of mind, I’ll do it, of course; you know I would.”_

_“I just needed to hear it,” Ha-Yun said, a little teary-eyed and Hanzo used a thumb to wipe away one that tried to escape down her cheek. “Thank you.”_

_He tugged her into his lap and let her curl up against him until she stopped trembling._

_One month later the paperwork was finalized legally._

_A few weeks after that, Hanzo received a call during prep for the lunch rush at North Wind. “_ It’s about Hana Song; you are her legal guardian, correct? _”_

_On the way back from a trip to Broadway to celebrate Hana’s ninth birthday, Ha-Yun Song, Hana Song, and Aimi Shimada were in a car crash. Hana’s left leg was crushed when the car that T-boned them crumpled the door; she would lose her other leg after the second collision pushed the driver’s seat into her lap. Aimi, in the passenger’s side, was knocked against the door and received comparatively minor injuries from the frame and airbags._

_Ha-Yun, the driver, received the brunt of both impacts._

_At age 33 and nearly two full months after their midnight talk, Ha-Yun Song died and Hanzo was Hana’s sole legal guardian._

 

* * *

It felt like he blinked and he was at the hospital nearly an hour’s drive from North Wind. The car was parked and his hands rested over the steering wheel as if he had indeed drove but he had no recollection of it.

His phone had ten missed calls from Genji, one from a number listed as “unknown” which he recognized as Ana’s, and one from Rishi; there were ten voicemails of varying lengths and about twenty text messages that Hanzo didn’t dare open.

With hands that shook, he called Rishi. “ _Hanzo_ ,” the tattoo artist said with a relieved sigh. “ _What happened? Luis said he’d never seen you run out that fast._ ”

He carefully didn’t mention Genji, for which Hanzo was grateful. Genji was overprotective and tended to hover; though Hanzo didn’t like to keep secrets from him, in order to live his life it was sometimes a necessity. Fortunately, Rishi understood this and though it made Hanzo feel guilty for turning his boyfriend against him, Rishi helped him to keep some of his life a secret from his brother. If Genji suspected this, neither he nor Rishi told Hanzo.

“Ana called,” Hanzo said, aware that his voice shook. “There’s...Jesse’s in the hospital.”

“ _Where are you?_ ” Rishi asked. Hanzo swallowed and gave the name and address of the hospital. “ _Did you get there safely?_ ” He hummed when Hanzo answered in the affirmative. “ _Good. I’ll tell Genji that you’re safe. If you don’t do so for him, please at least keep me informed? We’re both worried about you._ ”

Hanzo choked on a sob. “Thank you, Rishi,” he said.

As ever, Rishi was a lifesaver. When Ha-Yun...the last time Hanzo had gotten called to the hospital, Rishi had brewed a massive pot of _chiya_ and soothed both brothers until they were able to sleep. He had driven them to the hospital as neither of them were in any shape to do so and had waited patiently outside as only family members were allowed in.

He had made friends with the nurses who snuck him in as well, had held Genji’s and Aimi’s hands when they had to break the news to Hana that her mother was dead. When Hanzo had locked himself in the kitchen, he hadn’t tried to pry him out like a stubborn clam from its shell; he’d asked if he could keep Hanzo company or perhaps even help. If Hanzo allowed him into the kitchen, he’d make more _chiya_ and the soothing smells of ground spices would relax the tension in Hanzo’s shoulders until he could face the world.

Rishi hadn’t stopped making _chiya_ since - there was _always_ some in the house, ready to be heated up and drunk as needed; their milk and whole spice budget had gone through the roof but Hanzo privately thought that if Rishi stopped, they’d all fall apart.

Wiping his face as well as he was able to, he cut the engine, pocketed his keys, and tried not to stumble out of the car like he was drunk. He received a few strange looks but no one stopped him - he supposed he wasn’t _too_ strange of a sight at a hospital.

A man was waiting at the doors to the hospital, standing beside a small smoking station. He had the look of someone that had been waiting there for a while and the tension was there in the way he pinched the cigarette. “Hold up,” the man said as Hanzo made to go past him. “I was waiting for you.” He snuffed the cigarette out in the tray and dusted off his hands. “I’m Jack,” he added, offering a hand for Hanzo to shake.

The man was pale, or would be if he wasn’t flushed from the sun, and he had hair of such a strange shade of white-blond at such a young age that Hanzo was sure that it had to be bleached. Parallel pink scars, visible even through his flush, cut across his face at his forehead and lips.

Hanzo swallowed hard and shook his hand. “Hanzo.”

The man - Jack - nodded even though he clearly knew who it was if he was outside waiting. “Didn’t want you wandering around,” he explained. “Ana sent me down to meet you.”

_Oh_ . This was the owner of Jack’s Farm, the one who Jesse sometimes jokingly referred to as _Pa_. He swallowed.

To his surprise, Jack said nothing but drew him into the hospital and up the elevators next to the front desk. Somehow this place, though it was clear that it was very much in use, felt emptier than Watchpoint as if people were only going through the motions here.

“I like Watchpoint better,” Jack said gruffly as the doors closed. “It doesn’t quite feel right here.”

Hanzo said nothing and winced when he got a look at his reflection on the back of the metal doors. It was a testament to his mental state that he hadn’t changed out of his chef’s jacket. There was still a sauce stain on his shoulder from when Maria had squeezed a sauce bottle too hard and it squirted over Hanzo and her uncle. He was marked with sweat and his hand towel was still shoved into the tie of his apron, hanging desperately by a corner.

“Oh,” he said belatedly. “I’m so sorry…” Jack turned and looked at him, his nearly invisible brows rising in what could be incredulity. “I didn’t realize I hadn’t changed out of…”

With a rough laugh, Jack waved it off. “I have no issue with it for a number of reasons.” He raised fingers in succession that still had dark soil clinging to the cuticles and beneath the nails. “One: we sprung this on you so you can be forgiven for not looking at your best. Two: you’re clearly worried about Jess so the same thing applies. Three: this will help your case with the girls.” He leaned closer as the indicator lights crept upward and clapped a large hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize.”

Hanzo’s breath hitched. He felt himself begin to shake again as the doors opened to a full waiting room. The pink-haired giant was the first to see them; her eyes were red as if she had been crying and her cheeks were blotchy as they flushed with rage at seeing him.

To his surprise Angela stepped between them, still dressed in a dirty apron much like him, and put a comparatively tiny hand on Aleksandra Zaryanova’s massive bicep. “Inside voice, Zarya,” she cautioned. Her eyes were also red and swollen and her free hand held a crumpled tissue.

Jack left Hanzo’s side and moved to the mocha-skinned man that Hanzo had once seen on the Farm yelling in Spanish. The man was sitting with his head down and his elbows propped on his knees, a dark beanie dusted with hay clenched in a large fist.

“Hanzo,” a voice said and turning, he managed to catch sight of Ana a moment before she hugged him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

He swallowed hard and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the smaller woman’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he mumbled.

Ana’s fingers were like talons in his back and he thought that her grip was the only reason that Aleksandra wasn’t saying anything else. Jesse’s adopted sister, Fareeha, eyed him tiredly, as if already resigned to coexisting with him in the waiting room.

“I came as fast as I could,” Hanzo added awkwardly. “Has...has there…?”

Though Ana was the strongest woman Jesse had ever met - so he had told Hanzo many times - he knew that there was a special kind of agony in waiting for news about an injured loved one. Oh, he knew. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice that wavered, burying her face in his chest. He hoped he didn’t smell too bad, of sweat and grease and lingering smells from the kitchens of North Wind all stacked on each other.

“Don’t be,” he said, hoping she didn’t notice how much he shook. “It’s...difficult.”

Ana leaned back and looked up at him. With her single eye, it felt like he reached into his soul and read the story of his life as it was written on his heart. “ _Oh_ ,” she breathed. “ _I’m so sorry_.”

Unsure of what to say, Hanzo simply squeezed her against him. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked instead. “Or drank?”

“Rein’s bringing food up from the Diner,” Angela said quietly and Hanzo hazarded a glance at her. She stood in the comforting circle of Fareeha’s arms; Aleksandra sat mulishly in a corner, carefully not looking at Hanzo but instead at her large hands that lay spread out in front of her as if she could implore them to do something. It was a pose he had taken more than once in the past. “He’s coming up after closing.”

Hanzo nodded. “We were eating breakfast,” Ana said quietly as if she hadn’t heard Angela. “I...I guess not since then. Couldn’t keep anything down.”

This was easier, having someone to care for. Maybe that’s why Rishi always seemed so composed even outside his typical serene attitude. “Water? Tea? Coffee?”

Jack glanced at him and moved to a corner that Hanzo hadn’t noticed. A small Keurig was tucked into a nearly-hidden niche in the wall and soon something was burbling happily.

“It feels hopeless,” Hanzo whispered to Ana, hoping that no one could hear. “But even if the pillar that holds you up falls, you must keep standing because you are a pillar for others.”

“Wise words,” Ana mumbled. “For someone so young.”

Jack handed Hanzo the mug and nodded his chin meaningfully at Ana. “I’ve been through it,” he reminded her, bringing the mug around to press it into Ana’s shoulder. “Here. Drink.”

“I should be the one taking care of...of…” Ana shook and Jack materialized to take the mug back as he wrapped both hands around Ana’s shoulders.

Thinking a prayer that he wasn’t about to get killed, Hanzo lifted Ana. From Jack’s expression, he was as surprised as Hanzo that he wasn’t maimed. The two of them managed to get Ana into a large chair, bracketed by Jack and the man holding the beanie who finally looked up at Hanzo.

“Drink, Ana,” Jack said, pushing the mug into one of her shaking hands and Hanzo helped them both support the mug. The man with the beanie watched Hanzo as if he had forgotten how to feel.

Hanzo looked away and slumped into a chair nearby. Shaking, he cradled his head in his hands and tried to catch his breath. To his surprise, Angela pushed a warm mug of…something…in his hands.

“Black tea,” she explained and hesitantly moved to sit beside him as if afraid he’d send her away. When he didn’t, she sat at the very edge of the chair and twisted herself to look at him; she didn’t seem bothered when he couldn’t find it in him to do the same. “It’s not very good but it’s better than hot water.”

Though he didn’t really doubt her, Hanzo still made a pained face at the first mouthful. “It’s stale,” Fareeha said from across the room. She was curled in a similar pose though unlike Hanzo, she was leaning against Aleksandra’s massive shoulders. “None of us thought to bring _actual_ tea with us.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo whispered to Angela who offered a wan smile in return. “Do you…know what happened?”

Angela nearly touched his arm soothingly before hesitating. When he once more didn’t react, she rested her fingertips lightly on the bared red and golden stalks of rainbow chard of his tattoo. “He cut his hand washing dishes,” she explained.

“I remember him telling me,” Hanzo admitted, a sinking feeling welling up in his chest. He took a large gulp, hoping to melt the shards of ice he could feel growing. His hands shook.

“The doctors are saying that they think it was deeper than any of us thought,” Angela told him gently. “And that the surface skin healed faster than the deeper parts. It got infected and it spread…” Likely seeing the distress Hanzo tried hard to hide, Angela gently put the rest of her hand on his arm; the heel of her palm brushed the sharp spines of an artichoke and a round bulb of fennel, the palm itself covering a small cluster of golden beets. “We caught it before it got too bad,” she assured him quickly. “But Jesse nearly fainted at the breakfast table with Ana; she rushed him to Watchpoint so they could stabilize him enough to take him to an active hospital.” Hanzo gripped his mug tighter, glad that it was some generic ceramic thing and not a paper cup otherwise it would have crumpled and hot tea would have spilled all over the scuffed white tiles and his legs.

Infection. That was insidious stuff made only worse depending on the _kind_ of infection.

Hanzo knew well the dangers of it – bloodborne pathogens, bacteria, disinfection were all covered in culinary school and were common things he looked out for in his usual day – and he knew first-hand what it could take away. He knew from Rishi the horror stories of infected tattoos from people who thought they were supermen and –women and didn’t care for their new tattoo; he knew from speaking to Lucio and Bastian, the latter through an electronic speech- and keyboard, of limbs and digits removed due to infection, of patients kept in quarantine until they wasted away either from the antibiotics or the bacteria. He knew from speaking to the doctors about the possibility of infection in the stumps of Hana’s thighs and preparing himself for the possibility of losing her to something so tiny it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye.

_Are you Hana Song’s legal guardian? There’s been a complication…_

He nearly physically shook himself out of the memory. If it was infection and Jesse fainted…how bad was it?

He thought back to their date. Hadn’t he thought that the bandage was warm in his hands? Was it in his mind, in the flush of his own skin at being so close to Jesse; that Jesse would forgive him for his transgressions against him and let them start over?

No, he decided at last. If it was warm, it was from the sun and his own flush – when they kissed, Jesse’s face had been only as warm as one would expect for the heat of the day and the bandages were thick enough that he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway.

Still… _infection_.

“How bad?” Hanzo heard himself ask even though he wasn’t sure his conscious mind would want to know.

Angela gave him a sympathetic look and rested her other hand on the wreath of herbs. Rosemary, sage, thyme, dill and colorful strings of peppercorns would have tickled her hand if they were real. He could almost smell them, the burning tingle of resin and spice and herbs in the kitchen; what he wouldn’t do for a handful of spices or herbs to bury his nose in. “We’re just waiting for what they have to say,” Angela was telling him.

“What are they doing?” Hanzo asked quietly.

Now Angela paused, visibly hesitated and he didn’t blame her for not telling him for a hundred different reasons. “Ana didn’t say,” she whispered. “But if I had to guess…the infection was bad and we’ve been waiting…they may have…”

“Amputate,” Hanzo said numbly, with just enough thought to keep his voice down. “To keep it from spreading.”

He didn’t need to look at Angela to know that she was staring at him with open concern; he was sure that he would too in her position. His ears rang and he stared listlessly down into the ripples in his tea caused by his shaking hands.

Angela’s hand squeezed his skin – squeezed fennel and chard and beets and a spiny artichoke; herbs and spices and the rounded hilt of a beautiful chef’s knife Hanzo had gotten from a mysterious benefactor upon graduating culinary school. She may have said something but the words didn’t register as a doctor still in scrubs walked into the waiting room.

“Jesse McCree?” the man asked, pulling the mask off from where it was hanging over his ears. Everyone in the room stared at him.

The Spanish-speaking man began muttering under his breath and from the muted rage in his voice it was expletives. “In surgery,” Jack said.

“Oh,” the man said and scratched at the tufts of hair that poked out from under his crooked cap. “Are you his legal guardian?”

Hanzo jerked hard in his seat and Angela caught the mug before it could fall far.

* * *

_He sat at the edge of Hana’s bed, carefully stroking her hair. There were scrapes and bruises all over her face and body and one arm was in a plain white cast. The doctors assured him –_ as if it were an important detail! – _that later he could pick the color for her once they were sure that it was set well._

_Under the thin hospital sheets, she seemed even tinier than she should have been, but that was because she was missing both legs at the knees. One leg had “only” been broken while the other had been shattered. Shortly afterwards the surgeons realized that shards of bone and glass were embedded in the tissue and the pulpy mess that was the remains of her leg was almost assuredly infected._

_They had asked him to make the call a day later, when the pulpy mass of flesh was red and swollen and beginning to ooze with pus. The smell was vile; that they made him see it before asking him what they should do - as if_ he _were the doctor and they were students asking their mentor for advice - was even worse._

_Now a tiny woman’s tiny daughter seemed even smaller._

_“Are you her legal guardian?” a doctor with an entourage of nurses asked from the door._

_Hanzo flinched. “Yes,” he said tiredly._

_“She looks like you,” a nurse said._

_“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” another said._

_They all flinched back when he turned and glared at them. “Spare me your empty platitudes,” he told them in a rough voice. “And Hana is not my daughter, nor was Ha-Yun my wife.” It was amazing to him that he was able to say their names without his voice cracking._

_Still, the void left by Ha-Yun’s untimely death yawned in his chest._

_“We’re still sorry for your loss,” a third said stubbornly._

_The whole gaggle of them quieted when the doctor glared over his shoulder. “Are you her legal guardian?” the doctor repeated and Hanzo tried not to be_ too _annoyed._

_“Yes,” he said again, perhaps a little sharply because the doctor’s lips thinned._

_“It’s time for some tough decisions,” he said and lifted the chart from the foot of Hana’s bed._

* * *

“-just in time,” someone was saying cheerfully and a calloused hand touched Hanzo’s wrist. “Ah, perfect, he’s coming back to us!” The hand tugged his wrist until it inverted it, laying his palm up; it did the same to the other hand until they were both cupped in front of him. “Hanzo, I have something for you.”

A ceramic bowl was pressed gently into his palms and then it was filled with something that sounded like sand. Other items were placed inside so they clicked against the bowl.

“Just breathe,” the voice said soothingly. “Do you smell that?” Hanzo nodded jerkily and the hands steadied the bowl so it didn’t jump out of his hands. “What is it?”

That was an easy question; he could do easy questions. “ _Chiya_.”

The voice had a hint of a smile and an accent he had never been able to place. “My brother’s recipe,” the voice agreed. “Whenever I had a nightmare, whenever I was scared, Mandhav and I would make it to calm us back to sleep.” The hands bracketing his disappeared. “Free your mind. What do you smell?”

Another easy question; he could do easy questions. He knew the ingredients by heart by now but there had to be some special way that Rishi - and once, his brother Mandhav - made it. Perhaps some kind of dark sorcery, he and Genji would guess when they were both deep in their cups. But did it matter, when they had a seemingly endless supply of _chiya_ whenever Rishi was in the mood to make it?

But Rishi’s _chiya_ spices were simple.

Cinnamon stick - Rishi preferred the Badia brand because when he had first gotten it, Genji had sang _September_ from Earth, Wind and Fire while dancing with the bottle down the aisles of the grocery store. He later told Hanzo that cinnamon was such a warm spice that it needed warm memories to go along with it to supplement the magic in the bark.

Star anise - whole, not ground, and came in a glass jar stuffed awkwardly with pointy seeds that resembled a _dharmachakra_ . Rishi once told him a story of how as a young boy, he tried to make a _mala_ bracelet out of dried star anise seeds because he loved them the most of what was in his brother’s _chiya_ and he had always loved looking up at the stars.

Cloves that Rishi insisted didn’t do much but Hanzo _knew_ it was an important ingredient. Perhaps Rishi was only saying that to spare Genji’s feelings because more often than not he brought back ground instead of whole even though none of them baked and Genji _had_ to know that it was for Rishi’s prized _chiya_.

Cardamom pods - expensive things, nearly as expensive as saffron but much more rewarding in Hanzo and Rishi’s opinions. They were ugly things, shriveled and wrinkled and the seeds hidden away in the malachite pods were black and lumpy with a spicy, medicinal smell. But beneath the slow grinding in Rishi’s mortar and pestle, it was pounded into nearly unrecognizable grit and it perfumed the air with its soapy smell.

Coriander - which more than once Genji had confused with mustard seed and which would have been disastrous. On the plus side, they would never want for mustard seed for St. Patrick’s Day brisket...if only two-thirds of their apartment ate corned beef.

Fennel seeds, which imparted a light, lovely grassy tone to the tea while mixed with an almost lemon-like flavor. It was an odd addition, one that Rishi admitted came after Mandhav when Rishi was, of all things, wandering through a small town in Pennsylvania and stopped in an Indian restaurant and sampled the _mukhwas_ . That particular restaurant had toasted fennel seeds and bits of sugared dried coconut. Not being cursed with Hanzo’s sweet tooth, Rishi had chosen not to add the shaved coconut to the _chiya_ but on his own where Rishi couldn’t judge him, Hanzo sometimes added a spoonful to his hot _chiya_.

Peppercorns in as many colors as Rishi could find even if it didn’t quite change the flavor of the _chiya_ . Rishi liked the colors, especially the pink and red peppercorns, because they were so different than the muted earth-tones of the other spices. It was the artist in him that enjoyed just a little bit of whimsy even in something as trivial as _chiya_.

It was on the tips of his tongue, hiding just behind his lips, but Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Because instead of _cinnamon_ , he thought of Jesse’s arms; instead of _star anise_ he thought of the bright spots of light like stars reflected off Jesse’s fork as he lifted a piece of food to his mouth on their date at Kings Row. The smell of cloves made him think of Jesse’s cologne and the earthy, spicy smell that Hanzo was sure surrounded him naturally from a life on a farm and the soapy smell of cardamom reminds him of the clean smell of the building Jesse had called Base, while they washed up for lunch.

He ripped his head up from the spices and stared down into Rishi’s near-black eyes. “Greetings,” the artist said with a sad but serene smile. In his hands was a steaming mug that he traded with Hanzo’s numb hands for the small bowl he was cradling.

Hanzo recognized it as Rishi’s favorite mug, one he kept in his art bag along with bags of prepared tea in a small aluminum can. He fixated on the neat black lines of lettering around the rim: _Peace be upon you_.

But Hanzo most certainly wasn’t feeling peace because the warmth and spice of Rishi’s _chiya_ was only bringing back memories of Jesse.

The smile of Rishi’s face didn’t reach his eyes and he squeezed Hanzo’s wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of weird things have been happening lately and not really to do with the story haha. I was going to post this chapter last night but during my taiko class I managed to hurt myself...I bit my tongue and I have apparently picked up a bad habit of biting my cheek which then of course turned even worse when I startled myself and bit down.
> 
> Needless to say, my mouth was quite bloody. 
> 
> Then my friends whom I haven't ever played video games with decided to try to bully me into playing Overwatch with them...they succeeded which is why I'm posting this now. 
> 
> Not that this has anything to do with the story. This is just to make me feel productive because I should not only be working on this story but also prepping for NaNoWriMo next month and I am not doing much of either.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone for all of the kudos and comments. Please feel free to continue doing so ;) 
> 
> But for realsies please tell me what you think of it, if you think anything should be fixed - like any Spanish I foolishly decide to include - or what you think of the story arcs. I love feedback!
> 
> Thanks again for everyone that's been sticking with this mess!
> 
> ~DC


	14. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want me to stop?” Jesse murmured, allowing the two of them to sway in front of the stove. The heat from the gas was warm on his cheeks and Hanzo’s back burned a line down his entire front from chest to knees.
> 
> They both startled apart when Fareeha walked through the kitchen toward the dining room. “Hand check,” she said but didn’t stop to enforce it; her pace quickened. “Don’t do anything unsanitary!” she called over her shoulder as she pushed through the swinging doors.
> 
> Jesse chuckled at Hanzo’s blush and pressed a chaste kiss to the chef’s cheek. “Anything I can help you with, darlin’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t take me to Paris  
> On a lover’s getaway  
> It’s alright, it’s alright  
> If I’d rather wear your T-shirt  
> Than a sexy negligee  
> It’s alright, it’s alright  
>  **Every dinner doesn’t have to be candlelit  
>  It’s kinda nice to know that it doesn’t have to be**
> 
> **Perfect  
>  Baby every little piece of the puzzle doesn’t always fit  
> Perfectly  
> Love can be rough around the edges,  
> Tattered at the seams,  
> But honey if it’s good enough for you,  
> It’s good enough for me.**  
> ~ _Perfect_ by Sara Evans

Three days after he was admitted to the hospital, Jesse was fitted with his first prosthetic which was little more than a silicone-covered metal skeleton. The doctors explained that as soon as they had amputated, they had fitted him with a neuroplate to prevent the degradation of his nerves, muscles, and tendons near the joint. It wouldn’t allow him to really _feel_ much, they hastened to explain, but it allowed him to have much more mobility in the limb.

He wondered why Hana and Bastian didn’t have prosthetics or neuroplates that he could see before he shook himself out of it; it wasn’t any of his business.

For the next few days as he got his strength back up, he went to PT deeper in the bowels of the hospital and started to get used to feeling unbalanced - his new prosthetic was cheap and lightweight without the true heft of blood and bone and flesh. But he adapted quickly and worked doggedly to get his motor skills back up in his left hand.

Now that he was awake and feeling much better, he had more visitors. Ana, of course, was a near-constant presence and if she wasn’t there, Gabe or Jack were. Rein and Angela visited at the very end of visiting hours, trusting their staff to close down the Diner so they could say “hi”; Zarya and Fareeha visited during their afternoon breaks when they could spare the time and truck to get to him. A few of the hands visited as well outside of their own shifts but for the most part, their well-wishes were delivered in large bags full of cards and flowers.

Unable to stand the overly-cheerful flowers, Jesse sent them away to be shared with the nurses and other patients in the ward he was in. Now he understood why Aimi Shimada did what she did. Speaking of Shimadas...

After that first sighting, Jesse didn’t catch another sighting of the elusive cryptid Hanzo but there were little signs of his presence: a small notebook filled with neat writing in a language he didn’t recognize, take-out plates of food and soup with Jesse’s name in neat block letters, in a hundred little things that even his usual visitors were surprised at.

It took Jesse a full day to work up the courage to ask Ana, the most sympathetic of his visitors, about Hanzo. Her expression did nothing to comfort him and she painted a story that made something cold in his chest grow shards.

He didn’t know just how bad it was until the next time Zarya visited, holding a plate of food from Hanzo. “Is not so bad,” she said when Jesse hesitantly asked her about Hanzo. “Is hurting - hard to hate when you see someone that broken.”

Jesse didn’t dare respond, afraid of what he might say.

She peered at him. “If you need to find him, look in the kitchen,” she said at last.

Four days after he woke up, he was released to go home, escorted by Jack and Ana while Gabe and Zarya lingered behind to clean up the obscene amounts of flowers his various well-wishers had left him. He left with a bag full of medicine and strict instructions to attend physical therapy to get used to his prosthesis.

The first day he was back in the Barracks, he spent sleeping. The drugs that the hospital sent were strong and easily knocked him on his ass and decreased his appetite by a large amount.

It was only through Fareeha and Zarya’s testimony that he knew that Hanzo was even on the Farm otherwise he saw no sign of the other man - his boyfriend?

Thing was, everyone made excuses for Hanzo and Jesse _understood_ it but really, he just wanted to see him again. He wanted to _talk_ to him, to hold him in his arms... _arm_...

“ _If you need to find him_ ,” Zarya had advised, “ _look in the kitchen_.”

When Jesse woke up the third morning after he returned home, that was the first place he went. From the clutter of dishes and ingredients scattered around the counters, Hanzo had been there a while. “You know,” he said in a lull where Hanzo put his knife down. “You’re spoilin’ everyone. They’re gonna throw a strike if Ana ever takes over again.”

He was glad that he had waited because Hanzo jumped. In any other situation, it would be funny but it made something ache in his chest.

Hanzo looked like he had seen a ghost. He also looked like he hadn’t slept in _days_.

Suddenly Jesse’s arms were full and Hanzo had pressed him almost painfully against the counter, the knobs of the drawers and cabinets digging into his back and ass. But it was worth it to feel Hanzo in his arms again, even if he was shaking and smelled of hot oil.

Carefully he used only his good arm to wrap around Hanzo’s waist, pressing his cheek to the chef’s messy hair. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured.

Hanzo’s grip on him turned painful and he was sure that he would have finger-shaped bruises on his hips and back but that was a small price to pay. “I was so scared.”

“I heard,” Jesse murmured. “Sorry to scare you, darlin’.”

Much to Jesse’s disappointment, Hanzo peeled back and eyed him. “You’re still weak,” he fussed. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“A pink-haired giant suggested I come and find you,” Jesse told him. “And I’ve been sleeping enough to last a lifetime.”

Hanzo frowned. “You should sit down at least.”

“As long as I can be near you, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, pressing a hesitant kiss to Hanzo’s forehead. A lump rose in his throat and he ducked his head away from Hanzo’s. “That is…as long as you want me…”

The bruising grip came back but one of Hanzo’s hands released his back and hips to – with surprising gentility – to turn his head down to look at him. “Why would this change anything?” he asked, sounding genuinely hurt.

Jesse brought his hand up and very carefully – because he wasn’t as confident with his new prosthetic – touched Hanzo’s cheek with his left “hand”. Hanzo glanced at it and flinched. “Cold,” he explained and pressed his cheek into the metal palm. “All I could think of…was what would happen…if…”

Hanzo shook when he took a breath and Jesse tugged him closer and tried not to get his segmented fingers tangled in the chef’s hair. “Shh,” he murmured against Hanzo’s forehead. “I’m so sorry to put you through that, darlin’.”

They stood like that for a while, just basking in the solidity of the other’s embrace until they realized that smoke was rising from the stove and they had an audience. Gabe leaned against the opposite counter beside the coffee machine, watching their embrace like the creeper he was while sipping from a mug of coffee; Ana fussed with the burning pan on the stove, muttering tiredly to herself in Ivrit.

Jesse was tickled to watch Hanzo turn bright red but nevertheless flipped Gabe off. “Go back to your room _vaquero_ ,” the other man advised, voice muffled a little by the rim of the mug pressed to his lips. “ _Llevese su jugete_.”

“ _No es mi_ juguete _,_ ” Jesse muttered back but tilted his head to look down at Hanzo. “I’m tired, darlin’,” he murmured and realized it was true; it was probably the medicine. Ana was smearing a bagel with a lumpy sort of cream cheese. “Think you can walk me back to my room?”

Hanzo looked up at him suspiciously. “I’ll take over,” Ana assured him. “You could use some rest, too.”

The chef muttered something under his breath in what Jesse assumed was Japanese. “Here,” Gabe said, shoving a tray in Hanzo’s hands when he turned around. He quickly put two mugs that smelled of something spicy, a glass of water, and then the plate with the bagel Ana was working on. “ _Toma medicina tambien,_ ” he grumbled to Jesse.

Seemingly reluctant, Hanzo followed Jesse out but adamantly refused to let Jesse help him carry the tray. Jesse was breathing hard by the time they got to the Barracks and Zarya, who was just coming down the stairs for her shift, had to help him the rest of the way to his room, much to his mortification.

To his surprise, Hanzo hesitantly joined him on the couch, divvying up their mugs and Jesse’s food and medication. “My roommate’s _chiya_ – chai,” he explained when Jesse made a curious sound at the mug. It smelled like cinnamon and peppers and spices that Jesse had no name for; it was warm and soothing and he found himself smiling. “Homemade,” he added. “It’ll help put you to sleep if you need it.”

Jesse split the bagel with Hanzo, explaining that he had to take food with his meds but didn’t want to eat _too_ much if they would just put him to bed. They ate in relative silence, unsure of how to bridge whatever gap had formed between them, until they were both sitting drowsily on the couch, sipping the tea.

“You look like you could use a rest, too,” Jesse murmured as he yawned.

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” Hanzo admitted. “I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and you’re back in the hospital…or worse…”

Jesse hummed and gently wound his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. “You’re…um…welcome to join me. For a nap, I mean,” he said awkwardly. “Lord knows I could…I’d like…” he nearly punched himself in the face with his prosthetic when he moved to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You’re not afraid of…” Hanzo trailed off, clearly thinking of the last time they had shared a bed.

“Not too much,” Jesse admitted. “Too tired to be too concerned. Not sure I’d wake up, anyway.”

Hanzo leaned his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “I’m afraid of hurting you again.”

“Don’t be,” Jesse replied. “I think I’d sleep better with you, though.”

The chef peered up at him and helped him to his feet and into his bed. There was a long pause, a moment of hesitation, before Hanzo pulled off his shoes and curled up next to Jesse as he disconnected his arm and set it on the bedside table.

“Does this bother you?” Jesse asked, suddenly self-conscious of his bared arm.

“Only that it hurts you,” Hanzo replied. His hair spread artfully around his head, draped over pillows and blankets and Jesse felt his throat close up at how _beautiful_ he looked even as mussed and exhausted he looked.

Jesse’s good arm snuck forward and Hanzo glanced down at it before moving to tangle their fingers together. “Does this bother you?” Jesse asked again and Hanzo wiggled forward so that his nose was pressed against Jesse’s sternum.

“Does this?”

Tilting his head down, Jesse rested his cheek against the top of Hanzo’s head. “Naw,” he said and squeezed their fingers. “This is perfect.”

* * *

Things got better slowly. Hanzo hovered, but Jesse could understand why. Later that day, when they were both feeling more refreshed, they cleaned up and went to visit Watchpoint, where Ana had arranged for Jesse to do his PT. To his delight, he was in the same “class” as Hana, Lucio, and Bastian though his participation wouldn’t start until the next day.

Orisa was distraught, Dr. Winston had said; when they visited her, it was the first time she had shown Jesse any motion other than her usual calm indifference. Her hug was almost painful and none of them mentioned her shaking hands or how her eyes seemed wetter than usual. He waved off her apologies and showed her his prosthesis, which he had hidden with a glove and a long-sleeved flannel shirt despite the heat.

It would take some getting used to, especially the difference in weight. Orisa and the physical therapist had assured him that the weight could change with a new prosthesis if he chose.

To Jesse’s pleasure, they visited Aimi, Lucio, Hana, and Bastian in the upper wings and spent some time there. They all cheered when they saw him and stopped what they were doing to give him hugs and well wishes. Lucio and Bastian, through a speech board Jesse hadn’t seen him use before, compared medications with him and described their PT sessions with him so he’d be prepared tomorrow while Hana, Hanzo, and Aimi spoke to each other quietly in Japanese.

They spent some time with the group where Jesse learned that Bastian _did_ actually have prosthetic legs but couldn’t attach them himself as he only had one working hand that was missing fingers. He also had a prosthetic arm which had the same problem and so he didn’t use them as it required a lot of assistance and that annoyed him. Furthermore, they were old, clunky, and _heavy_ and in Bastian’s opinion, weren’t his time or attention.

On the other hand, Lucio had a prosthetic leg but no neuroplate, much like Bastian, so once he got used to it there would be little to no articulation but he was fine with that, he assured Jesse. Perhaps sensing Jesse’s distress over their blasé nature of their injuries, the two of them changed the topic in time for the Shimada conference to end and the three of them to join the group.

They all went down to the gardens where they found Gabe and another patient planting flowers. “Are you replacing me, _jefe_?” Jesse teased and the patient, a woman with long black hair, scowled up at him distrustfully.

“She’s quieter than you, _pendejo_ ,” Gabe replied without looking up. “And much better company.”

Rolling his eyes at the teasing, Jesse wandered back to his group as Gabe clearly wanted him to. They helped some of the other volunteers until Hanzo suggested that Jesse go back and rest. Rolling his eyes, Jesse obeyed and nearly fell asleep on the car ride back while Hanzo drove.

They slept together again and no one commented on it when they came down for Hanzo to make dinner.

It was an amazing experience to watch Hanzo in the kitchen. Each move was precise, mechanical, without a wasted motion but unease still prickled at Jesse. Hanzo wasn’t _expressive_ in the kitchen – he was simply a robot, someone going through the motions: there was no feeling to it as he chopped and diced and minced; he didn’t smile, simply stared at the food as if by the sheer magnitude of his gaze it would transform.

Jesse watched quietly, the itch between his shoulders at watching Hanzo so emotionless bothering him.

When Hanzo put his knife down and moved to the stove to check on a pot of water, Jesse moved and wrapped his arms hesitantly around his waist. The chef stiffened for one breathless moment before relaxing into Jesse’s loose embrace. Relieved, Jesse gently pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek.

“You’re so stiff,” he murmured. “I feel a crick in my back just from watching.”

Hanzo flashed a hesitant smile. “I thought you were about to say something else.”

Chuckling, Jesse pressed himself further into Hanzo, careful to not push him too much into the stove. “I can _mean_ something else if you’d like,” he teased, letting his lips brush against Hanzo’s neck.

To Jesse’s surprise, Hanzo’s breath hitched but he wasn’t pushed away so he let himself linger there, breathing in the warm smells of a working kitchen. “You’re going to give me _ideas_ ,” Hanzo murmured back, reaching a hand down to touch one of Jesse’s. He tangled his fingers with his flesh hand over Hanzo’s stomach and Jesse pressed a smile to Hanzo’s neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jesse murmured, allowing the two of them to sway in front of the stove. The heat from the gas was warm on his cheeks and Hanzo’s back burned a line down his entire front from chest to knees.

They both startled apart when Fareeha walked through the kitchen toward the dining room. “Hand check,” she said but didn’t stop to enforce it; her pace quickened. “Don’t do anything unsanitary!” she called over her shoulder as she pushed through the swinging doors.

Jesse chuckled at Hanzo’s blush and pressed a chaste kiss to the chef’s cheek. “Anything I can help you with, darlin’?”

“I’m not letting you near a knife,” Hanzo replied, worry and mischief warring in his dark eyes. “But you _can_ help me peel tomatoes.”

Surprised, Jesse’s brows rose. “How can you _peel_ tomatoes?” he asked. “The skin’s quite firmly attached!”

Hanzo’s laugh was beautiful, Jesse decided, and he wanted to hear more of it.

The chef allowed him to help once he confirmed that Jesse’s prosthetic was waterproof. He still made Jesse wear a latex glove to keep food from getting into the minute mechanical workings still exposed, and Jesse did his best to explain to Hanzo the not-quite sensation of the glove stretched over unmoving metal.

Jesse was taught – without letting him touch the knife, true to Hanzo’s word – how to delicately slice the tomatoes’ skin and drop it in boiling water for just a few seconds. He held the bowl of ice water beside the pot as Hanzo picked the tomatoes back out and the two of them watched as the plastic-like skins peeled back where Hanzo had sliced them. Together they raced to peel them but of course Hanzo won, being used to the actions.

He claimed his reward of a kiss that Jesse was hard-pressed not to deepen and push off dinner prep even further than he already had.

As Hanzo’s sous chef – which the chef explained was a fancy term for assistant in the kitchen – Jesse held bowls of chopped garlic and onion, fetched spices and flour, and helped Hanzo stir the pot while the chef chopped the tomatoes they had prepared. Every step, Hanzo explained and light bloomed in his eyes, his cheeks flushed (for reasons other than embarrassment or, Jesse was hopeful, arousal), as he spoke to Jesse.

_This_ was the Hanzo he had wanted to see earlier. The one who smiled easily at Jesse as they cooked together, whose hips nudged his when they stood together in front of the large stock pot; who seemed to actually _like_ what he was doing instead of simply going through the motions.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jesse breathed, pressing Hanzo back into the counter. “I’m gay.”

Hanzo smiled up at him with mischief in his eyes as he reached up to scratch his fingers through Jesse’s beard. “I’d hope so,” he teased.

“Tease,” Jesse breathed, bringing his forehead down to Hanzo’s and brushing their noses together.

“Hand check,” Zarya boomed as she walked through.

Hanzo’s head thumped against his sternum while Jesse looked up in askance. “I thought you were on the Dorado run,” he muttered to Zarya as she walked into the kitchen.

The big woman shrugged unrepentantly. “Greenhouse today,” she replied, opening the pantry doors and lifting out a case of water by the plastic wrapped around it. “Crystal is Dorado. You’re looking at wrong schedule.”

Mercifully she lumbered away without a backward glance; Jesse hissed out a frustrated breath but chuckled when he saw Hanzo’s red face. He kissed Hanzo’s temple and backed away so they were at a more respectable distance.

“I’m sorry ‘bout them, darlin’,” Jesse murmured. “Don’t know when to mind their own damn business.”

Hanzo’s smile was hesitant. “But it’s a good reminder,” he said with yet another wicked grin. He brought his hand back up to scratch the edge of his jaw like a cat and Jesse couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “Do you know how to make bread?”

The two of them continued to cook, much to Jack, Gabe, and Ana’s surprise when they returned from wherever they had been hiding. Jesse helped Hanzo to make garlic knots, trying his best to make neat little twists but failing most of his attempts much to Hanzo’s amusement. He kissed the chef’s teasing away until he tucked himself between Jesse and the counter and manipulated Jesse’s hands with his own to form the shapes to his exacting standards.

Jesse, for his part, tried his best to distract Hanzo with teasing kisses down his neck and cheek.

Together they threw the bread in the oven and set about making fresh pasta, rolling it out using the ancient Kitchenaid Jesse knew was hiding somewhere in the pantry. Since it didn’t require anything more dangerous than a fork (and even then Hanzo looked at it dubiously), Hanzo let Jesse work the pasta under his strict tutelage but did most of the rolling as neither of them were entirely confident in Jesse’s fine motor skills with his new prosthetic.

Hanzo promised that another time he’d let Jesse do the entire thing, perhaps on one of their dates? Jesse got flour all over the back of Hanzo’s shirt and ass when he pulled him in for a deep kiss.

By the time they were nearly ready for dinner, Jesse was tired and his stump ached. While Hanzo finished up in the kitchen, Ana helped him clean and treat his wound around his neuroplate and rebandaged it. She gave him a wide smile and patted his cheek when she moved to stand. “You two look so happy together,” she murmured and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Dinner was nice and he kept himself pressed tiredly against Hanzo’s side. No one could believe that Jesse had helped Hanzo and they wouldn’t have if Fareeha and Zarya, much more reliable sources, agreed to witnessing it.

That their testimonies included the more licentious aspects of Jesse’s “assistance”, blown way out of proportion in their teasing, made Hanzo blush bright red.

They were shooed off to bed (well, Jesse to bed and Hanzo to “assist” him) when they tried to clean up, Ana promising that Jack and Gabe would do it in their stead. This time around, it took very little prompting to convince Hanzo to climb in bed with Jesse.

Jesse woke the next morning, Friday, to hot kisses on his ribs, trailing slowly down toward his navel and he groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 23 doesn't want to be written so I though I'd amuse myself with posting another here and hoping that would get me moving haha. 
> 
> As always, thank you for all the comments and kudos! 
> 
> ~DC


	15. The Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re late,” the woman informed him with a single raised brow. “But you know that. You will be so kind as to tell me why you are late and assure me that you will not do so again in the future.”
> 
> Jesse scratched the back of his neck. “I woke up late,” he said.
> 
> “And why did you wake up late?” the therapist wanted to know.
> 
> Her hazel eyes were sharp and direct and he stemmed, hoping to buy time. No such luck; she stared him down. “I was...distracted.”
> 
> “That you are feeling well enough - mentally - for sexual activity is a good thing,” the therapist said briskly while Hana and Lucio made gagging sounds behind them. “But sexual activity is not an excuse for tardiness except for this one case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What if I fall (I won’t let you fall)  
>  What if I cry (I promise I’ll never make you cry)  
> And if I get scared (I’ll hold you tighter)  
> When they’re tryna get to you baby I’ll be the fighter**
> 
> Look in the mirror  
> You’re beautiful, so beautiful  
> I’m here to remind you  
> You’re my only one, let me be the one  
> To heal all the pain that he put you through  
> It’s a love like you never knew  
> Just let me show you  
> ~ _The Fighter_ by Keith Urban featuring Carrie Underwood

**** Hanzo’s eyes were dark as he hovered over Jesse’s navel and his rucked-up shirt. Seeing that Jesse was awake, he smiled and licked his lips and brought them down to press a suggestive kiss just over his navel. 

With a punched-out groan, Jesse’s arms shot down to stroke Hanzo’s hair and he remembered only at the very last second that he was missing one.

The neuroplate slapped the side of Hanzo’s head but fortunately it was only a glancing blow as Jesse tried to yank his arm back and Hanzo ducked. Unfortunately this rammed Hanzo’s chin into the flesh below Jesse’s navel, making him curl and wheeze. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Jesse grunted and rested his good hand on Hanzo’s head. “Darlin’, did I hurt you?”

Hanzo shook his head but belatedly brought a hand up to check, smiling down at Jesse when his fingers came back bloodless. “Well  _ that _ backfired,” he said, chuckling against Jesse’s abdomen. He leaned back as Jesse pulled himself into a sitting position with a groan and pressed the fingers of his good hand to the area of his temple. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Jesse cradled his chin. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t mean t’ hit ya.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hanzo replied. “ _ I _ should be the one apologizing. I guess I should have waited until you woke up. Or until we talked about…this.” His gesture was vague but Jesse took it to mean intimacy; if it wasn’t what Hanzo meant, then he was fairly certain he was about to find out.

Groaning, Jesse fell back into his pile of pillows and made the universal motion of  _ come here _ in the form of grabby hands –  _ hand _ – at Hanzo. “C’mere, darlin’,” he cajoled when Hanzo hesitated.

“But I  _ like _ it here,” Hanzo said with a teasing smile.

Jesse smiled back. “An’ I  _ like _ seeing you there but right now…” he crooked his finger. He pressed soft kisses to Hanzo as he crawled up his body – and wasn’t  _ that _ a sight? – and tried to kiss away the sleepy frown that was twisting the other man’s face. He couldn’t help but give a satisfied sigh as Hanzo settled on his good side, curling his body against Jesse’s and resting his head on the soft pad of muscle and tendon over his shoulder. “You picked the wrong side,” Jesse teased. “I can’t get my hand on you.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Hanzo explained but obligingly shifted over Jesse’s prone body at his nudge. He settled carefully in the same spot, holding most of his weight over the shoulder.

Careful not to press his stump into Hanzo’s back in case he was put off by it, Jesse used his other hand to shove the hem of his shirt down and then reach to cradle Hanzo’s cheek. “Now ain’t that better?” he teased, leaning down for a gentle kiss. “I’d do more but I’m sure my mornin’ breath could curdle milk.”

Hanzo smiled and wiggled closer though he was careful to keep his lower body a respectful distance away. “I don’t mind,” he murmured. “But I’m sure mine is about the same.”

Chuckling, Jesse pressed his lips against Hanzo’s chastely and brushed their noses together affectionately. “Now,” he murmured, politely tilting his head so he wasn’t breathing directly into Hanzo’s face. “Mind telling me what you were doin’ down there?” He bit back a yawn.

Much to his glee, Hanzo flushed bright red and averted his eyes; Jesse brought them back up by gently using a crooked finger to tilt Hanzo’s chin up. “I think it was pretty self-explanatory,” Hanzo muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Jesse chuckled again and pressed a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s lips. “I don’t expect nothin’ like that from you,” he cautioned, holding Hanzo’s eyes to show he was serious. “This can go at your own pace; jus’ because you’re in my bed doesn’t mean ‘nything’s gotta happen.”

“What if I want to?” Hanzo challenged, the corners of his lips pulling back in what could only loosely be called a frown.

“Then that’s a whole different thing,” Jesse replied simply. “I jus’ want us to be on the same page.” He yawned again and released Hanzo’s chin to cover his mouth. “For now, let’s just relax, hm?” He pressed a sleepy kiss to Hanzo’s forehead and wrapped a chaste hand around Hanzo’s waist and back. “’m sleepy,” he explained when Hanzo frowned up at him. “’N you look like you could use a nap too. Don’t scowl at me li’ that, darlin’,” he added with a sleepy smile.

Hanzo huffed and tucked his head further on Jesse’s chest, hiding his face from Jesse’s view. “And if I want to wake you up again later?” Hanzo asked, voice slightly muffled as he drew meaningless patterns over Jesse’s clothed sternum.

With another jaw-popping yawn, Jesse ran the fingers of his good hand through Hanzo’s loose hair, brushing his fingertips over the shaved sides. “I promise t’ try not t’ hit you,” he mumbled, already lulled by Hanzo’s warmth against his side.

“I hope not,” Hanzo teased.

“’t was ‘n accident, darlin’.”

He thought he felt Hanzo press an awkward kiss to his chest. “I know,” he assured Jesse as he closed his eyes.

* * *

The next time he woke up it was completely different.

* * *

Hanzo lay with his head pillowed once more on Jesse’s shoulder, tracing patterns in the curly chair dusting Jesse’s chest. “I feel like I need a cigarette.”

Beneath him, Jesse chuckled and ran his good hand through the loose strands of Hanzo’s hair. Close to his scalp it was damp and while Jesse wrinkled his nose, he couldn’t help the smug pride that welled up in his chest. “I think I can scrounge one up if you want?”

“I hate the taste it leaves in my mouth,” Hanzo replied.

“Like you sucked on a piece of charcoal,” Jesse agreed.

They lay together in silence, simply basking in the points of almost-uncomfortable warmth that bloomed where they touched. If Hanzo was disgusted by the light layer of sweat on his body or the damp armpit hair that was most likely touching his shoulder, he said nothing; just as Jesse didn’t mention the damp trail of fluid that was sliding down his hip from contact with Hanzo or the humid mess of the other man’s hair. Likewise, neither of them mentioned their… _ questionable _ …breath.

“Jesse,” Hanzo began hesitantly then paused.

Reaching down, Jesse traced the curve of his ear. “You can ask me anything,” he assured him.

Hanzo tucked his head further away from Jesse’s and seemed to lose his courage. “What’s your middle name?”

“Jesse,” he replied with a smile. Surprised, Hanzo looked up at him. “My first name’s John after my father but he’s John Joel and I’m John Jesse. No one was ever sure if I should be called a junior or not ‘cause our names aren’t exactly the same but if someone called ‘John’ both of us would turn around so they just called us Joel and Jesse and skipped the junior/senior shenanigans.”

The other man continued to stare and Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “I like Jesse better,” he decided and tucked his head back down.

“Me too,” Jesse agreed with a smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s shaved head. “What about you?”

“I don’t have one,” Hanzo replied. “It was awkward to fill out forms in school.”

Jesse chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

They lay in silence for a bit more as the square of sunlight crept across their tangled knees. Eventually Hanzo’s hand drifted up and tangled his fingers in Jesse’s good one. “What…are we?”

Jesse hoped that Hanzo didn’t notice him stiffen but was sure that he did. He sighed. “Ways I see it, Han, we’re just two men,” he said, struggling to find the words to say. “I can’t speak for you but I...I like you Han. A lot. I just try not to think about how much because I know that one day you won’t be here with me.” 

The other man’s head popped up and Jesse carefully didn’t look at him. That choice was taken away from him when Hanzo straddled his stomach, making a face and adjusting himself to settle more comfortably. It made more questionable fluids leak along Jesse’s abdomen, flattening the dusting of auburn hair there and sweat began to bead from the humid heat beneath Hanzo’s naked ass. A strong hand turned his chin - but  _ gently _ \- to look up at Hanzo. 

Hanzo’s face was soft, a dot of dried spit at the corners of his mouth and some lingering dampness that twisted the well-trimmed hairs of his beard. His chest was a lurid mess of bruises and marks, bright red and fuchsia in the warm sunlight peeking in between the curtains. 

He reached down and tangled their hands - both of them - together and held it between them. “I want you,” he said with a candor that surprised Jesse. Then he swallowed hard, looking as if it was only by a great force of will that he continued to look down at Jesse. A blush rose high on his cheeks and began to trace down his neck to his collarbones. “I... _ like _ you too. I’m just…”

“Scared?” Jesse asked gently, unable to help his soft smile. 

“What if I fall?” Hanzo murmured.

It only took a gentle tug for Hanzo to be brought down to Jesse’s level so he was stretched out over the farmer. “I won’t let you fall,” he promised and pressed a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. 

Hanzo melted against Jesse, hooking his elbows over Jesse’s shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. By silent agreement, neither of them tried to breathe directly into the other’s face, all too aware of the undoubtedly foul nature of their breaths. “And if I get scared?”

“I’ll hold you tighter,” Jesse promised, looping his arms around Hanzo’s waist and tugging him closer. He palmed Hanzo’s ass with one as he let it drag up to a more appropriate position. They smiled as they pressed chaste kisses to dry lips. “Baby, I’ll be your fighter.” 

They both jumped when someone hammered on the door to Jesse’s suite. Groaning, Jesse let his head fall back. Then they giggled, aware that they were damp and sticky and very obviously naked, the thin sheet they had been using as a blanket having been kicked off sometime in their earlier exploration. 

Hanzo dismounted, continuing the motion so that he slid off the edge of the bed as well. “We should probably get that,” Jesse agreed to his unspoken statement. “But Lord knows I’d much rather have you here.” 

The chef smiled and leaned over, pressing a dry-lipped kiss to Jesse’s nose. “We should get up.” 

“Too late for that,” Jesse choked and groaned when Hanzo pinched him reproachfully. “Too late and past,” he continued, rolling out of Hanzo’s reach. “But I suppose I have you to thank for that.” 

Hanzo smirked at him. “I’m stealing your shower,” he declared and walked, bare as the day he was born, to the bathroom. “I suggest you deal with whoever’s at the door quickly so you may join me.” 

He watched his boyfriend slip into the bathroom, walking on the balls of his toes so that the impressive muscles of his legs were enhanced, the tension sliding up his legs like the hands of a possessive lover’s to his ass. Jesse felt his mouth go dry at the dimples above Hanzo’s ass and from the suggestive look Hanzo threw over his shoulder, he was well aware of it. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Jesse muttered, slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt as he swung himself out of bed. 

“ _ La petit mort _ ,” Hanzo replied as he kicked the door gently shut. The latch didn’t click, letting the tiniest sliver of light and sound peek through the crack. 

Shaking his head, Jesse ran his free hand through the messy tangles of his hair and walked to the living area of his suite where someone continued to bang impatiently on the door. “You’re going to be late to PT,  _ habibi _ ,” Ana said dryly when he opened the door. 

Jesse made a face and scrubbed at his mouth, hoping that she didn’t know what they had just been up to. Then again, this was Ana and Ana knew all; he just hoped that she wouldn’t  _ say _ anything about it. “I’m about to take a shower now.” 

The woman rolled her eyes. “Swing by the kitchen. I made you guys some food to take.” 

“Yes, Ana,” Jesse murmured as he closed the door. 

“Make sure you brush your teeth, too,” Ana told him, muffled through the door, as he turned around to walk away. 

Shaking his head, Jesse stripped back down and slipped into the shower behind Hanzo, wrapping his good arm around the man’s waist. “Now,” he murmured into the curve of his neck. “Where were we?”

 

* * *

His physical therapist was a small, dense woman with long auburn hair she kept in a severe plait down her back. She looked him over when he walked in five minutes late while Bastian, Lucio, and Hana were already doing their exercises; seeing him, they giggled quietly to themselves but returned quickly to their tasks. 

“You’re late,” the woman informed him with a single raised brow. “But you know that. You will be so kind as to  _ tell me _ why you are late and assure me that you will not do so again in the future.” 

Jesse scratched the back of his neck. “I woke up late,” he said. 

“And why did you wake up late?” the therapist wanted to know. 

Her hazel eyes were sharp and direct and he stemmed, hoping to buy time. No such luck; she stared him down. “I was...distracted.” 

“That you are feeling well enough - mentally - for sexual activity is a good thing,” the therapist said briskly while Hana and Lucio made gagging sounds behind them. “But sexual activity is not an excuse for tardiness except for this one case.” She gestured imperiously to a chair beside the lone desk in the room. “ _ Sit _ . We have things to discuss.” 

Things went smoother after that. The woman’s name was Pumpkin but she magnanimously allowed him to call her Pums as everyone else did. She was a ballet dancer until she hurt herself in such a way that professional dancing could not possibly in her future; fascinated by the way her body moved, she had pursued kinesiology and went into physical therapy at the suggestion of one of her adopted fathers. 

Pums was brisk, leading him through a series of stretches that encompassed his entire body, not only his arm. She asked him detailed questions - did his stump hurt? Did it ache around the cauterized area? Did he feel off-balance? How good was his fine motor skills with the prosthetic? Was he right-handed? Left-handed? Did he sit with any kind of twist in his spine? Stand? Move? How did he drive? How was his posture? She shot out seemingly dozens of questions, moved him like a mannequin, and interacted with Lucio, Hana, and Bastian as if there were five of her. 

“Twice a week,” she decided at the end of their session. “You will report here,  _ on time _ , twice a week for two weeks. After that, we will do another evaluation and decide if it should only be twice a week.” She handed him a business card in English on one side and bafflingly, in Chinese on the other. “If you have any issues, you will call me - I am certified to handle small episodes of dysphoria should you feel it and if you have questions about your prosthetic, I will also be able to answer those.”

Jesse swallowed. “Right. Thanks.”

“I’m not done,” he was informed. “If you buy or receive a new prosthetic,  _ let me know _ so I can alter our plans accordingly though of course we will have to do a whole new check-up to determine your balance with it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse mumbled when she looked at him expectantly. She hardly came up to his collarbones but she was  _ fierce _ and he felt intimidated merely by his presence. 

There was a knock at the door, which Lucio opened. “Hello, Pums,” Hanzo said as he walked in. 

“Good afternoon, Hanzo,” Pums replied. “What brings you by?”

To Jesse’s surprise, Hanzo shrugged. “Just wanted to let you guys know I made lunch down in the kitchens.”

Pums groaned appreciatively. “You’re going to make me  _ fat _ at this rate,” she complained as she cleaned up her desk. She gestured vaguely to Jesse. “You’re done for the day.” 

“I apologize in advance for him,” Hanzo murmured. 

“We’ve reached an agreement, I think,” Pums replied. “He’s agreed  _ not _ to show up late  _ ever again, _ yes, Jesse?” 

Jesse looked down at his feet, hoping that no one mentioned  _ why _ he was late to Hanzo. “Yes, Pums.” 

It seems that Pums wasn’t merciful. “We’ve also agreed that sexual intercourse is  _ not _ an acceptable excuse for tardiness, right Jesse?” She turned to Hanzo. “Or perhaps I should direct that to you, Hanzo?” Hanzo turned bright red; Pums snorted. “Good on you for finally getting laid but you couldn’t have at least made sure he was on time?” 

Lucio and Hana giggled as they fled. Bastian raised a lumpy brow and said, “Kind,” almost chidingly, before following the two. 

“Perhaps he’s right,” Pums murmured with a mischievous smile. “But I don’t appreciate tardiness, as I’m sure you’re aware,  _ oyabun _ . Now, what’s this about lunch, I hear?” 

She ushered them out ahead of her as they struggled to hide their blushes. This time she was much more merciful and after locking up her office, walked briskly away. “Her father works with me at North Wind,” Hanzo explained after an awkward pause. “Growing up she and her dads lived in the apartment above us. She’s good at what she does.”

“I don’t doubt that, darlin’,” Jesse rushed to assure him and Hanzo smiled shyly. He leaned in shyly, ready to back off if Hanzo gave him such a sign. When he didn’t, he smiled and cradled Hanzo’s jaw in his good hand. To his surprise, Hanzo not only leaned into the touch but lifted Jesse’s prosthetic hand around his waist so they were pressed together in one hot line from chest to pelvis. “Hey there.” 

Hanzo leaned into his space and pressed a shy kiss to Jesse’s chin and then his lips when he tilted downward slightly to make up for the height difference. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, so wrapped up in each other that the world fell away from them. 

“When they’re trying to get to you, I’ll be your fighter,” Hanzo promised quietly into the space between them and Jesse smiled so hard that he felt the ache in his cheeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finally found a use for the tumblr account I have, thus far, made just about zero use of. Recently I started posting the nearly incomprehensible rants/discussions I have with myself while I write or made edits to the chapters. Last night I posted a link for [Chapter 15](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/166202011836/good-directions-chapter-15-notes-on-intimacy-and) and one for the current chapter I had been struggling on (Chapter 23). 
> 
> Whether people are interested or not, I'll probably post more of these thoughts because even though they take a while to write out, they're pretty therapeutic. 
> 
> Regardless, thanks again to all of you leaving comments and kudos. They are all very much appreciated and bring a smile to my day when I see the notifications in my inbox. :D
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: Hopefully my dumb ass fixed the links above to the Tumblr page I mentioned.**
> 
>  
> 
> **~DC**


	16. God Gave Me You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s more here than what we’re seeing  
> A divine conspiracy  
>  **That you, an angel lovely  
>  Could somehow fall for me  
> You’ll always be love’s great martyr  
> And I’ll be the flattered fool**  
> And I need you, yeah
> 
> God gave me you for the ups and downs  
> God gave me you for the days of doubt  
> For when I think I’ve lost my way  
> There are no words here left to say, it’s true  
> God gave me you  
> ~ _God Gave Me You_ by Blake Shelton

 

To Jesse’s disappointment, Hanzo had to leave for work again but he promised to visit and stay in touch. 

Hanzo’s brilliant smile when Jesse tentatively suggested another date the next time Hanzo was in the area dazzled him. 

They texted constantly and not even Pums gentle teasing could dampen his mood. For once her teasing was indeed gentle given Hana’s presence in her class though he could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that once Hana was gone, it would be another story altogether. 

Jesse was startled to learn that Hana was on her last few weeks of recovery. In less than a month she and Aimi (who had been there mostly as her chaperone at this point) would be released. Pums, whose parents actually lived near Hanzo, would still be her physical therapist as necessary but she wouldn’t need to be in Watchpoint much longer. 

It was something that made Bastian and Lucio clearly unhappy but they hid it well from her...not so much from anyone else, like Jesse, who was looking. Most telling was their quiet acceptance of it. “It’s okay,” Lucio told Jesse when he hesitantly mentioned it to them without Hana in earshot. “We’re used to it.” 

“ _ Satya mentioned once that Bastian is the oldest patient they have, _ ” Hanzo commented when Jesse called him later that night. There was yelling in the background but Hanzo assured him that it was only someone called Herbalist Tang. By then, Jesse knew better than to ask. “ _ And he’s not really a  _ patient.”

“What does that mean?” Jesse wondered. “And who’s Satya?”

Hanzo huffed on the other end of the line. He had explained earlier that neither his staff nor his brother would allow him back into the kitchen that day so he had snuck into the back and did inventory. The way he made it sound, they lived in an apartment above the restaurant though Jesse couldn’t be sure and it felt too much like stalking to look it up on Google. 

“ _ Satya does the booking at Watchpoint, _ ” Hanzo explained. “ _ I know her because Genji and I had to speak with her often about Hana and mother. _ ”

Jesse wondered if Hanzo thought he was jealous but decided that now was not the time to ask. “Huh,” he said instead. “I haven’t met her before.” 

“ _ You wouldn’t _ ,” Hanzo replied and there was a slurping sound as he ate. “ _ She tends to keep to herself in the basement levels. _ ”

“Would you introduce us next time?” Jesse asked. 

“ _ Maybe. She doesn’t take well to meeting new people, _ ” was Hanzo’s response. “ _ I’ll ask her next time I see her. _ ”

Jesse scratched his chest idly. “Pums said that she’s releasing Hana soon.” 

“ _ That’s what she said, _ ” Hanzo replied though it wasn’t entirely clear to Jesse who “she” was. “ _ Hana’s not excited, though. _ ”

“Why not?” Jesse asked before he could stop himself. 

“ _ She’s going to miss Bastian and Lucio, _ ” Hanzo said as if it were obvious. “ _ But she’s trying to stay strong and not let Lucio and Bastian know. _ ”

“Why not?”

Hanzo huffed on the other side but it sounded amused. “ _ Well in their own slang, they’re Forgotten - no one is going to pick them up, their families have all but abandoned them, they have nowhere to go...but she’s  _ only _ injured and she  _ has _ a family to go back to - people that visit her and Aimi every weekend. _ ” 

“Oh.”

More slurping as Hanzo ate. He had apologized multiple times for eating while he was speaking with Jesse, but Jesse didn’t much mind. It was late and it was the best time for Hanzo to eat, just after his long shift even if it was just taking inventory in the kitchens. 

In the background, Jesse could hear a voice though he couldn’t make out the words. “ _ Yes, I saw Pums the other day _ ,” Hanzo said. “ _ Jesse is her newest victim. _ ”

“ _ That poor thing, _ ” he heard more clearly. It was an older man’s voice with a heavy Chinese accent. “ _ Well, if that’s him on the phone I’ll leave you alone. Stop by the shop before you go to visit him next...Pums won’t call me on her own but she  _ will _ for a patient. _ ”

“ _ What a terrible daughter, _ ” Hanzo said dryly. The voice in the background laughed. “ _ Thank you, Herbalist Tang. _ ”

There were more voices in the background and the sound of a door closing. “Sounds like a party,” Jesse said hesitantly. 

“ _ No, _ ” Hanzo said grumpily and Jesse smiled. “ _ Just Genji being an ass. _ ”

Jesse chuckled. “He seems like a social butterfly.” 

“ _ He is _ ,” Hanzo said with a heavy groan. “ _ It’s so  _ annoying.”

“Siblings are like that,” Jesse agreed, letting his free hand slip down his chest. “Who is Herbalist Tang?”

“ _ He’s Pums’ father. One of them, _ ” Hanzo replied. “ _ Her other father is on my kitchen staff. Luis. _ ”

Jesse chuckled. “She didn’t want to continue the business?”

“ _ No, _ ” Hanzo replied simply. “ _ It’s...a little complicated. _ ” 

“Ain’t none of my business,” Jesse said hastily. “I was just curious.”

Hanzo chuckled. “ _ I just meant that it’s complicated but perhaps if you’re curious, it’s better to ask Pums. _ ”

Stretching like the subject of their discussion told him to, Jesse felt his back crack. “Is her name  _ really _ Pumpkin? Like, legally?”

“ _ It’s tragic, _ ” Hanzo said dryly. “ _ Supposedly her mother was exhausted after birth and drugged and they had her fill out all of the paperwork. She was born around Thanksgiving so all she wanted was pumpkin pie...you can see where this is going, yes? _ ”

Jesse laughed. “It  _ is _ quite tragic,” he lamented. “No one should be without pumpkin pie! You should taste Ana’s. Our first batch of pumpkins are nearly ready and that week Ana always makes a pie. I’ll ask her to save some for you.” 

“ _ My hero _ ,” Hanzo purred and that  _ did things _ to him. 

“You can’t say things like that,” Jesse groaned. 

Hanzo laughed, low and husky, and Jesse bit back a groan. “ _ Anyway, _ ” Hanzo said and Jesse wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or thankful. “ _ Why were you asking about...what were we talking about again? _ ”

“Hana’s leaving Bastian and Lucio,” Jesse supplied, smile fading as he sat up. 

“ _ It’s something Genji and I have been talking about, _ ” Hanzo admitted with a heavy sigh. “ _ It’s not fair to mother to have her relocate but it’s also not fair to the three of them to separate the. _ ” There was a brief pause. “ _ Don’t tell anyone, but Genji’s been thinking of opening another restaurant up there. That’s one of the reasons he wanted to speak to Ana...that day. _ ”

Jesse thought back to his and Hanzo’s first kiss in the community garden. Hanzo had said that he was kicked out and that Genji had been interested in other pursuits. That would make sense, not that he thought that Hanzo would lie to him about this. 

“ _ He’s pushing for it more, now, so we can keep Hana there. I don’t know what would happen with Bastian and Lucio, if they would be allowed to be released into anyone else’s care, but that’s yet another issue we’re encountering. _ ” Hanzo sighed. “ _ The other… _ ” he swallowed. “ _ Genji wants  _ me _ to be the one there. _ ” 

They were both quiet for a long moment then by mutual agreement, they dropped the subject. 

The flurry of what-ifs and what-could-have-been-saids haunted Jesse well into the night.

 

* * *

Athena Kokinos was a woman that looked two seconds from falling asleep. She had frizzy black hair held behind her head by a band that looked like it was about to snap with strands that looked like it had performed a great jailbreak in escaping its tie, hanging in kinked swirls around her face like a black-and-silver halo. 

Even with all of the time Jesse had been spending at Watchpoint, he hadn’t yet met this woman, but she was very aware of him, had called him by name when he requested a moment of her time. 

Seeing her for the first time, he was worried that she would fall asleep as soon as she sat down behind a desk covered like a sitcom businessman’s with piles of paper. Her heavy sigh, as if it had been the first time she had sat down in days, didn’t help to convince him otherwise, and he promised himself to make it brief and worth her while.

Or should he drag it out, so she could have more time to rest? Would she be angry at him for disturbing her on such a trivial matter?

“It’s not so trivial if you deliberately asked for me,” Athena said with a hint of an accent in her voice as if reading his mind. Her eyes, though tired, were still sharp. “It’s something you learn,” she added though he hadn’t asked. “Patients sometimes feel guilt for calling a nurse - as if their suffering were an  _ inconvenience _ for those whose job is to ease it.”

Jesse ducked his head. “Ain’t about  _ my _ health…”

“That you choose to add emphasis makes me concerned,” Athena told him dryly. “Out with it, John Jesse McCree.” 

“Please, ma’am, just Jesse is fine,” he insisted, swallowing hard.

“Sit, Just-Jesse,” Athena told him, gesturing at the plastic chair in front of her desk. There was just enough space between the piles of papers on her desk for them to make eye contact. “I apologize for the clutter.”

Jesse fidgeted as he sat, digging the blunt fingertips of his flesh hand into the delicate plating of his prosthetic. Her brows rose and he stopped as if reprimanded by Pums, who had caught him doing the same thing. “I had some questions about...patient release.” 

“I’m not allowed to disclose personal information,” Athena said immediately. 

“No, not specific like,” Jesse rushed. “Just...in general.” 

Athena didn’t look amused. “Stop dancing around the subject.” 

“I don’t know where to begin,” Jesse tried and Athena looked even less amused, which Jesse hadn’t known was possible. “Um...I wanted to know what the release...um...procedure would be.”

“You’re not an admitted patient,” Athena pointed out. 

Jesse shifted and picked at his prosthetic again and watched the oating on his mechanical digits catch the dim lights of her office. “I’m talking about releasing another patient...to me.” Hanzo’s voice echoed in his mind. “A Forgotten.”

If there had been any doubt whatsoever that Jesse didn’t have Athena’s attention, that was erased by her intense stare in response to his statement. “A Forgotten is not a puppy or a kitten for you to adopt on a whim,” she told him though despite the wording, her tone didn’t seem as scolding as it should have been. Her dark eyes were direct; interested but wary of his intentions. “If you decide that they are too much for you, you cannot simply hand them back or release them. A Forgotten has been abandoned by everyone they had held dear whether willingly or not; blood and affection have left them behind as if they had died. I will not let you give them hope if you will only abandon them later.” 

“No!” Jesse exclaimed, surprised despite himself by his own indignance. “I...I wanted to speak to  _ you _ first so I know what I’m getting into,” he explained, unable to meet Athena’s very intense gaze. “I wanted to know if it was  _ possible _ ...and I know you cannot disclose personal information, but I wanted to know what requirements need to be in place before you could release them if possible. What I’d need to do, that sort of thing.” 

Athena was staring hard at him when he looked up and he wasn’t sure what to divine from her near-black eyes. “You live on a farm,” she said at last. “Neither Lucio nor Bastian require much, but I suppose that Dr. Carr-Tang would still want to see them regularly, moreso if you can convince Bastian to actually  _ wear _ his prosthetics so his ass doesn’t continue to flatten.” 

It took a lot of strength for him to not laugh. Athena seemed so humorless, her face not changing as she spoke though it was clearly with affection and some amusement. 

“I cannot speak for their medications or their physical therapy, but strictly speaking they aren’t actively being treated here,” Athena continued. “The Forgotten are really considered more dormers than actual patients.”

Jesse peered at her. “Isn’t that a breach of confidentiality?”

“Not at all,” Athena replied as if entirely unsurprised by his audacity. Perhaps she really wasn’t; that seemed to be the trend around Watchpoint. “I will see if we have any paperwork that could prove useful,” she continued. “We don’t exactly have a pet-owner’s manual for this. For legal purposes, Kayode may need to make a formal inspection but otherwise there shouldn’t be an issue.” Her eyes hardened again to two solid points of onyx, both as sharp and cutting as obsidian. “I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen to you if you abandon them, do I?”

Gathering the shredded strands of his courage, Jesse tipped his chin up and met her eyes. “You must think so little of me,” he said, drawing inspiration from Hanzo at his most difficult (that he’d seen thus far). “And I suppose that I don’t have to tell  _ you _ how to keep a secret, then?”

Athena smiled suddenly which strangely had the effect of making her face look even older, more exhausted. She stood and he hastened to obey, not sure if he was still being tested or not. Briskly, he followed out of her office. “You’ll do,” she said and nodded at another woman, one who Jesse didn’t recognize, the only other person Jesse had seen so far down in Watchpoint. Athena patted his shoulder and left, disappearing down a hall Jesse was fairly certain he wasn’t allowed down. 

“She touched you,” the strange woman said as she opened a plain door with only the smallest slit of a window in it. “A high honor.” 

“Are you Satya?” Jesse blurted and the woman stilled, the door barely cracked open.

The woman glanced at him suspiciously and slipped into the office. Even though he was a few doors down, he could still hear the click of the lock behind her. 

“Right,” he murmured to himself. “‘She doesn’t take well to meeting new people’. I’ll say.” Still, he found himself rather unbothered by her apparent shyness, more consumed with a more pressing problem: walking the labyrinths of the basement level of Watchpoint to find a way back to the surface. 

On the plus side, he would be late for a short meeting with Pums so at worse she will realize he’s missing and  _ maybe _ send a search party. 

He tried not to think about her indifference and the terrifying suggestion that he may be trapped on the basement level forever. A hospital, even one as old as Watchpoint,  _ shouldn’t _ be  _ too _ complicated to navigate, right?

The diminutive man with a truly impressive if outdated beard that found him later informed him that he had been lost for half an hour past his appointment and Pums was ready to murder him. 

“What did you learn?” Pums demanded when he was escorted back to her office-slash-gym.

Thinking back to all of the horror stories of the surprisingly talkative man (whose name Jesse could never begin to pronounce correctly and he had  _ tried _ ) Jesse shivered. “Body chutes are a thing,” he decided at last. “And rooms in the basement don’t have windows.”

“What would they open up to?” Lucio wondered. “Can you imagine? A window that opens just to dirt?”

Hana wrinkled her nose. “That’s  _ stupid _ ,” she insisted though without malice. 

“Weight,” Bastian agreed.

“Yeah!” Hana said, wobbling on her prosthetic legs as she gestured excitedly at Bastian. “The weight of the dirt would just break the glass!”

Pums did not look amused and they hurried back to what they were doing. “Where were you?”

He was proud that he wasn’t intimidated by Pums into spilling his secrets but  _ Lord above _ she worked him over something fierce. Still, he had the feeling that Pums knew something he didn’t - which he wouldn’t at all put past her. His fears were justified, as she pulled him aside after their session - not scheduled, but as punishment for missing their meeting.

“Athena asked me to give these to you,” Pums told him and pushed a small plastic-wrapped packet into his hands. “They’re township codes for handicap accessible spaces.” 

Jesse frowned at her when he peeked in the bag. “You know something.”

“So do you,” Pums shot back. “But that bag also has reputable prosthetics companies as well as the contacts of a few engineers. Depending on how you feel about it - and them - they will most likely give you a discounted rate if you agree to test their prosthetics. Which -  _ if you had shown up on time _ \- we would have discussed more in-depth.”

He couldn’t help his flinch, especially at the almost hurt look she gave him. “I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he told her. “But I got lost…”

“The basement is a terrible place,” Pums said flatly. “And Athena should have led you out of the labyrinth before something befell you.” 

“I’m sure it’s not a dungeon,” Jesse suggested. Pums’ expression was enough description of her doubt. “Anyway, Tor...Tor…”

“Torbjörn.”

Jesse flinched. “Yeah...he found me well enough.” 

“There’s a reason he was telling you about body chutes,” Pums informed him. “Watchpoint doesn’t have the best of histories. It’s unwise to wander around the basement without knowing where you’re going - promise me you won’t.” 

Confused, Jesse nonetheless agreed. He was more confused when Pums looked honestly relieved - more so than she should have after a simple promise of not wandering around the basement area.

 

* * *

Jesse’s first order of business was to collect permission from the person who was  _ really _ in charge of Jack’s Farm - Ana Amari. 

The thing he liked most about the woman - though there were many reasons for him to love her as much as he did - she honestly  _ listened _ . It was unnerving because she was so quiet while you spoke, but she let you get out everything you wanted to say - didn’t even interrupt to ask for clarification until you had run out of words - and more often than not, you ended up speaking more than you intended. 

It was her favorite trick to pull on the unsuspecting and even having a lifetime of experience, she still tripped up Jesse and Fareeha with it more often than not. 

No one was going to mention what kind of trouble she got Rein, Jack, and Gabe into with her unflappable stare. 

Jesse said his piece and stopped after his proposal. He didn’t dare look up at her, focusing instead on washing the potatoes in the sink. Ana hummed as she peeled them with quick flicks of her wrist. Unlike most (that Jesse liked to think of “normal people that didn’t cook for a living”), she didn’t use a peeler. 

His last boyfriend had been scared away by her unblinking stare as she peeled potatoes with a paring knife.

Gabe had gone the more traditional route with the girlfriend before  _ him _ and had scared her away by cleaning his shotgun on the veranda. 

“Only five or six rooms are actively in use,” Ana said at last. “And one of the guest suites can easily be remodeled to accommodate Bastian; more, even if they would all like to have ground-floor suites.” 

Jesse swallowed, the lump in his throat dissolving with Ana’s approval. “Thank you.” Ana smiled.  

For once Orisa wasn’t in her typical spot but he found her later as he headed for the Forgotten Ward. She and Mei were pushing a large cart with covered trays and looked at him strangely when he turned the corner.

“Athena said you might visit,” Mei said and unlike the last time he had seen her, she actually seemed awake. She jerked her chin toward the Forgotten Ward. “Who are you looking for?”

Orisa shrugged. “They usually all eat together,” she explained. “But Bastian sometimes takes his meals alone if he doesn’t feel up to socializing.”

“I was hoping I’d be able to catch him,” Jesse admitted. “Did Athena tell you why?” Both nurses shook their heads but there was something odd in Orisa’s honey-colored eyes that Jesse couldn’t quite place. “Should I tell you?”

“Probably not,” Mei said as she lifted a tray off the cart. “This is Bastian’s. We’ll tell the rest that he’ll be a bit late.”

Nervously, Jesse took the tray. “Thank you.”

Orisa shrugged and Mei looked at her curiously but without saying anything more to him, they continued down the hall. To his surprise, Orisa and Mei began speaking quietly with each other in Chinese as they turned a corner.

Though he had never explored this far, Jesse had a basic knowledge of where Bastian’s room was. The newer suites were closer to the main body of the hospital, as if the renewal process was radiating outward and had gotten halted when funding ran out. Seeing the strange mix of new and old around Watchpoint, it wouldn’t surprise Jesse.

He continued down the hall, ducking quickly past Hana and Aimi’s rooms, then further down Lucio’s before time seemed to stop in the hall. A cartoonish sign hung on the wall across the doors: Now Entering Bastian’s Corner. Resolving to ask someone about it later, Jesse continued down the hall to the very last door. To his surprise, the plaque on the door was bronze, engraved with Bastian’s full name: Sebastian Metzen.

“Metzen,” he murmured to himself. “Huh.” He debated asking Bastian about it later and decided that now was not the time for that particular conversation. 

His door was depressingly plain, without any kind of embellishment and the window beside it was coated with dust. Missing a few fingers, Jesse found it fair that it wasn’t dusted but it likely showed how short-staffed Watchpoint was that no one else could clean it.

He wondered despairingly if the center even was up to safety codes.

Still, the tiles and walls were clean even if the window wasn’t. There was a small buzzer beside Bastian’s door not unlike Hana’s and Jesse wondered if the other man was deaf as well but pressing the old button, worn and discolored by a hundred fingers pressing it over time, Jesse could hear a muted ring through the door.

Bastian looked surprised to see Jesse, but that was fair though there was something odd in his eyes when he eyed the tray in Jesse’s hands. “Um,” he said awkwardly. “I…was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment.”

“At,” Bastian pointed out dryly but wheeled his chair back and gestured for Jesse to enter.

His room, unlike Hana’s, was much more cluttered in a way that made it seemed permanent…but considering that he had been at Watchpoint for many years, Jesse thought it made sense. There was a large bookshelf in a corner that was overflowing with old paperback books and another filled with movies. Bastian’s room was very neat, but he supposed that it needed to be in order for his chair to move around. The living area had an outdated TV and a small loveseat but the space was otherwise open and Jesse’s lips twisted.

“Nice place,” Jesse said, setting the tray down at the table Bastian gestured to and the other man shrugged. He swung by a small desk beside the window before joining Jesse at the table.

“Sit,” Bastian said, gesturing with his truncated arm to a chair tucked in a corner. It was a little dusty and Jesse wondered when someone that needed one had visited Bastian. He placed a small device on the table which unrolled when he poked it. The next device looked like a mouse and the third appeared to be a small speaker.

“What’s that?” Jesse asked curiously.

Bastian gave a lopsided smile and powered on the devices. He swung the mouse in his good hand as the mat he unrolled lit up with a soft electronic glow. It reminded Jesse of a Ouija board though in addition to “yes/no” and the alphabet, there were a few additional words: pain, tired, hungry, sad, happy, thank you. There were two blank rectangles, one with a blinking cursor and another with the words  _ [Saved Messages] _ .

Jesse watched, bemused, as Bastian used his good hand to wiggle the mouse to life and moved his cursor to the  _ [Saved Messages] _ box and selected one.  _ “This is my speech board, _ ” a computerized voice said from the small speaker. The voice was lifeless and tinny and Jesse couldn’t help but shiver. Bastian made a face. “ _ I know, the voice is weird, _ ” the speaker added.

“That’s pretty cool,” Jesse admitted. Bastian shrugged. “Wish you didn’t need it, though.”

Bastian shrugged again. “ _ O.K. _ ” he spelled, clicking the letters with the mouse. When he was done, the speech board obligingly read it out loud. It was slow going, but not as slow as Jesse had almost expected. Clearly Bastian was used to using the speech board and that was a sad thought. “ _ What did you want to talk about? _ ”

“I’m not sure how you’d feel about it,” Jesse said awkwardly. “And I don’t want to get your hopes up with anything…I realize I may have jumped the gun with this because there are so many things up in the air, still and I don’t know your thoughts on it…” he coughed. “I spoke with Ana – I don’t know if you’ve met her, if she’s visited while I’m on duty but she’s the one in charge at the farm, never mind it’s in Jack’s name. She…she has a habit of picking up strays – picked me up when I was just some dirty street urchin that tried to steal her purse.”

Bastian watched him and Jesse was amazed at how closed-off his normally happy face could be. It was unnerving to Jesse more for the reason that he was used to a lopsided smile on the other man’s face instead of the terrifyingly blank expression he wore now.

He coughed again and stared down at the table. “I guess I should just spit it out. I feel…guilty leaving you here when we have space back at the farm and I wanted to speak to you first because…well I didn’t want you to feel pressured by everyone else and I thought I should…just let you know. We have space at the farm. For you. To live with us.”

For a long moment Bastian regarded him with that curiously blank expression. Jesse politely averted his eyes as he began the painstaking process of typing a response. “ _ You’re not the first person to ask to adopt me like I’m a pet at a shelter, _ ” the speaker said at last and Jesse tamped down the indignant response that jumped to his lips. “ _ They wanted to assuage some guilt for my appearance and handicap or for whatever reason they needed to convince themselves. I have said ‘no’ to all of them. Why should I go with you when I wouldn’t go with them? _ ”

Jesse sighed. “I don’t have a good answer,” he replied honestly which made Bastian nod thoughtfully. “I only thought I’d make the offer.” He bit his lip. “I…wish I could tell you more but I’m promised to silence…but I’m going to make the same offer to Hana and Lucio and…and Hanzo.”

The other man looked intrigued. “ _ And if I say ‘no’? _ ”

“You don’t need to answer at all,” Jesse replied. “It’s…a strange thing for you to agree, I mean, you hardly know  _ me _ much less Ana or anyone else at the farm. But you’re more than welcome to visit. We’re converting rooms downstairs regardless so you can visit or not.”

Bastian nodded thoughtfully. “ _ I need to think about it. _ ”

“Of course,” Jesse told him, feeling relieved despite still not having an answer. “I just…wanted to bring it up.”

“ _ It’s appreciated, _ ” Bastian said through the speech board. “ _ Regardless of my answer, thank you for making the offer. _ ”

Hesitantly, Jesse squeezed the remains of Bastian’s good hand. It felt odd in his hand, a kind of  _ wrongness _ that was instinctual, but Jesse forced himself to not flinch when his skin touched the too-smooth lumps of his truncated fingers. “I hope I didn’t offend you by making it.”

Bastian cocked his head to the side as if he hadn’t expected that response. “ _ No _ ,” Bastian replied simply.

Jesse squeezed his hand and sat back. “Well, now that we got that awkwardness out of the way…do you want some breakfast?” The other man cocked his head to the other side though Jesse noted that movement on that side was stiffer. “Orisa mentioned that you sometimes take breakfast with everyone else. Do you want to go there?”

“ _ No _ ,” Bastian said simply. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

With his permission, Jesse helped to pry open the simple lid on the tray (something that while Bastian could manage, it was difficult to not spill anything) and sat not quite looking at the other man while he ate. Bastian had admitted with surprising candor that he was self-conscious of the way he ate and didn’t like people facing him so Jesse did his best to oblige.

Jesse could understand and though he was looking away, he could still see the tattered edges of Bastian’s tongue – as if he had bitten a part of it off.

At Bastian’s request, Jesse told him about a day at the farm and who he might meet. He talked about seasonal produce and the greenhouses and the community gardens and Ana’s personal garden. Bastian chuckled when he told him about the field hands and volunteers, of Hog’s farm and his own personal thoughts about Jamie and his very odd relationship with the livestock supervisor.

Most of all he told Bastian about Ana and a runaway that she adopted and fought for – her first Stray.

* * *

Jesse found Aimi later, squinting at a tablet as she attempted to knit. “It’s a mess,” she lamented when she saw Jesse.

“Just depends on how you look at it,” Jesse replied and pulled up a chair beside her.

“What brings you here today?” Aimi asked as she struggled with the yarn. “You don’t have therapy today?”

Though she wasn’t looking at him, he shrugged. “I just wanted to visit,” he replied. “They took me off driving duty so I’m not due back for a bit. What are you doing up so early?”

“Everyone wakes up early here,” Aimi replied. “But I had always been an early riser.” She put her knitting down and twisted to look at him. Though she still looked tired and worn, she seemed much better than the last time he had seen her. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, nodding at his arm. “We were all so worried when Rishi told us.”

Jesse smiled and wiggled his prosthetic fingers at her. “Almost good as new,” he told her. “Just need to get used to everything. The stump aches sometimes.”

“I’m sure,” Aimi replied. “So what brings you here?”

“Just visiting,” Jesse told her vaguely.

The look Aimi gave him told him how much she believed him. “I raised Genji,” she said. “So I know a lie when I see it.”

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m just not sure where to begin.”

“Pick a place,” Aimi replied. “And go from there.”

So Jesse told her the whole of it. She interrupted him every now and then to clarify a point or draw him back on track when he started to deviate from the topic. Unlike Ana she reacted in the correct places: she laughed, shook her head, sighed, or made sympathetic noises as necessary, sometimes reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for telling me,” Aimi said at last. “I will have some words with my sons – but Genji especially.”

Jesse looked down. “I didn’t tell you for that.”

“I know,” Ami replied, patting his shoulder gently. “But it is something that needs to be said. Genji was unfair to you and if he were younger I’d tip him over my lap…I will have to have a word with Rishi about that but perhaps he’d enjoy it too much.”

“Who, Rishi or Genji?” Jesse thought about that and made a face. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Neither do I,” Aimi said dryly. “In any case, I know Hanzo is looking for apartments or houses for rent in this area.”

“Should you be telling me this?” Jesse wondered.

Aimi shrugged. “I’m old; perhaps the secrecy slipped my mind?”

Jesse considered that tidbit. “Ana cleared me to invite whomever I wanted. You and Hanzo and Hana are all welcome, of course.”

“I’m thinking of going back to Japan,” Aimi told him. “But thank you for your consideration.” Surprised, he looked at her. “My sons don’t know this yet; I’m still meditating on it but I’ve been here for so long and…I miss Japan. I miss Kichirou.” She looked down at her lap. “I haven’t been…we’ve been in contact – had always been since I left – but just how much he knows has been a secret.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me how much,” Jesse suggested delicately.

Aimi nodded. “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position,” she agreed. “And I do not expect you to keep any of this a secret should Hanzo or Genji ask, which is why I’m telling you so openly.”

“Does Hana know?”

“Yes,” Aimi said to Jesse’s surprise. “She wanted to know her  _ Sofu _ . They’ve video called each other a few times.”

Jesse shifted awkwardly. “Is Hanzo Hana’s father?”

“No,” Aimi said immediately. “He’s always been  _ dōseiaisha _ _. _ ”  _ A strange word _ , Jesse mused. He resolved to look it up later. “Even if Genji used to joke that delivering Hana is what ‘turned’ him gay. Hana’s father was a terrible man and my sons have ever been her favorite uncles.” Jesse thought back to the introduction Hanzo had given on  _ Chopped _ and how he had very carefully avoided describing her as his daughter. “Hanzo is legally her guardian but that is where his paternity ends.”

That certainly surprised Jesse and he blinked at Aimi, who seemed amused. “Her legal guardian?”

“They considered marriage if only for the legal aspect,” Aimi told him, amused. “It would be simpler to just have him labeled as her step-father by marriage but we knew a nice lawyer in the apartment next to us shortly before Hana was born. So long as Hanzo and Genji would cook her meals for her while she worked on Ha-Yun’s case and one other, she would take it on and draft the papers essentially  _ pro bono _ .”

Jesse frowned at her. “Should you be telling me this?”

To his surprise Aimi gathered his hands in her small, calloused ones. “They are very close,” Aimi said instead of answering him. “Is she someone you can share his time with?”

“Of course,” Jesse said, honestly surprised that she’d ask. “Why would that be an issue?”

Aimi smiled enigmatically. “Why indeed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the updates for this probably will be slowing down a bit. I will try to keep it somewhat regular but there are a few thing that might make that difficult:  
> 1\. Overwatch Halloween event. I...don't have anything more to say about that.  
> 2\. I'm going away this weekend starting Friday and will be returning Monday so there may be a brief stretch of time that you won't hear anything from me so I apologize in advance.  
> 3\. Some of the chapters I'm currently working on REALLY don't want to be written and I'm having a difficult time with it. It's slow going and I don't want to rush myself too much because I want to give you guys something of (...relative...given my track record haha) quality. Sometimes that means that I have to withhold chapters that are done to make sure that my writing and the details I add are all consistent.   
> 4\. NaNoWriMo is coming up and I'm prepping my novel at the same time as finishing this story, which in turn starts to confuse the narratives I have juggled in my mind. More so this means that the chapters I'm working on are becoming more difficult to get done. 
> 
> As always, thank you to all of you that have sent comments and kudos! And thank you so much for all of you that have stuck with this hot mess. 
> 
> ~DC


	17. Hard to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They took her in without a second thought. Hanzo and Genji bribed their neighbor, a lawyer, to help them get a restraining order. They slaved over the stove in her small apartment to cook her meals daily for almost a month - breakfast, lunch, dinner - until a silly piece of paper served as a shield for Ha-Yun and Hana.
> 
> When her husband tried to fight back, breaking into Aimi’s apartment while she was home, Aimi had beaten him back with a broom until Herbalist Tang and Luis had heard their cries and come to investigate.
> 
> Jesse howled in laughter as Hanzo described coming home to find Aimi in a rage with their neighbors looking terrified at the tiny woman wielding a broom with deadly force. According Luis, she had given the man a “hell of a shiner”, a phrase that Hanzo hadn’t understood for a few years, and had broken his nose.
> 
> So Ha-Yun had lived with them until late one night she woke Hanzo up shortly after he had fallen asleep after a long shift to inform him very calmly that her water had broken and she was about to have her baby...right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I am a short fuse, I am a wrecking ball  
>  Crashing into your heart like I do  
> You’re like a Sunday morning full of grace and full of Jesus  
> And I wish that I could be more like you**
> 
> I’m hard to love, hard to love,  
> Oh I don’t make it easy,  
> I couldn’t do it if I stood where you stood  
> I’m hard to love, hard to love,  
> You say that you need me,  
> I don’t deserve it but I love that you love me good  
> Love me good  
> ~ _Hard to Love_ by Lee Brice

**** “I don’t know,” Hanzo said dubiously as Jesse curled up with him on the couch. 

Lifting his hand, Jesse pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Do you really want me to stop?”

Hanzo looked away. “I’m afraid of how they decided to portray me,” he said. 

Chuckling, Jesse tugged Hanzo so he sat in the vee of his hips. “This won’t change my opinion of you,” Jesse promised. “Well,” he amended, scrupulously honest. “Not in a negative way.” 

“They have a tendency to portray people…”

Jesse chuckled. “I know,” he told him, tilting Hanzo’s head to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We watch  _ Chopped _ all the time in the common room.” 

“So…they’ve all…”

“They’ve all seen you on  _ Chopped _ already,” Jesse finished and chuckled warmly when Hanzo gave another distressed whimper. “Zarya will probably get around to asking you for your autograph soon.” 

When Hanzo offered no other suggestion against it, Jesse turned on the TV and queued up the episode. Much of the beginning he had already seen but there was a new layer of it with Hanzo’s commentary. 

He regaled Jesse of having to wake up at “ass o’clock in the morning” and having to report to the studio, ready to shoot, at 4:30am. Jesse laughed, as Hanzo clearly wanted him to, when he described the judges walking in wearing pajamas and bunny slippers, an intern carrying a cardboard jug of coffee for them. 

Jesse had much more appreciation for Hanzo’s introduction and focused on the actions rather than the words. He learned that the camera crew had taken  _ hours _ of footage. Aimi had insisted that Hanzo and Genji, her two chef sons, make them a welcoming dinner. That was in part why there were so many clips of him cooking and prepping. 

At Hanzo’s insistence, he paused the clip when the woman came in to take Hana off his hip.

“That’s Ha-Yun,” the chef said, something odd in his voice that Jesse didn’t want to dwell on. “Hana’s mother,” he added as if Jesse hadn’t already figured it out. 

“She’s beautiful,” Jesse murmured. “I can see where Hana gets her looks.”

Hanzo chuckled. “She...was. Inside and out.”

Sensing his melancholy, Jesse hugged Hanzo closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Tell me about her?”

So Hanzo told him the story of delivering Hana in their bathtub. He had to back up a bit to describe how Aimi had come to meet the young street urchin that was Ha-Yun.

Her parents had been struggling so in a misguided effort to help them, Ha-Yun had snuck away to steal food at a local grocery store. Aimi had seen her just as a security guard had caught her. She had waved it away, begged forgiveness for her “daughter” being too impatient to leave to eat the apple in her hands. 

In the end she had bought Ha-Yun a small bag of groceries to take home after making the stipulation that Ha-Yun help her carry her own groceries back to their small house. Aimi had told Hanzo once that she had seen something in Ha-Yun - she had seen what Hanzo’s or even Genji’s life could take and it broke her heart.

“We...were...the same age,” Hanzo said, lingering on the past tense. “Just about. She was closer in age to Genji, actually.” Jesse kissed his cheek again. 

Jesse looked at the woman on the screen. She had the same mischief in her eyes that Genji and Hana did, had that same barely-there smirk that could at first be mistaken for an innocent smile. Much like her daughter, Ha-Yun was sugar and spice all in one. 

Hanzo continued the story, telling Jesse how Aimi had stayed in contact with Ha-Yun as she grew up and married a man that mistreated her. Fearing for her life and the life growing inside her, Ha-Yun had run away and found Hanzo and Genji as they came back from their shift at a restaurant. 

They took her in without a second thought. Hanzo and Genji bribed their neighbor, a lawyer, to help them get a restraining order. They slaved over the stove in her small apartment to cook her meals daily for almost a month - breakfast, lunch, dinner - until a silly piece of paper served as a shield for Ha-Yun and Hana. 

When her husband tried to fight back, breaking into Aimi’s apartment while she was home, Aimi had beaten him back with a broom until Herbalist Tang and Luis had heard their cries and come to investigate. 

Jesse howled in laughter as Hanzo described coming home to find Aimi in a rage with their neighbors looking terrified at the tiny woman wielding a broom with deadly force. According Luis, she had given the man a “hell of a shiner”, a phrase that Hanzo hadn’t understood for a few years, and had broken his nose. 

So Ha-Yun had lived with them until late one night she woke Hanzo up shortly after he had fallen asleep after a long shift to inform him very calmly that her water had broken and she was about to have her baby... _ right now _ . 

He listened as Hanzo described Genji panicking, nearly fainting when Ha-Yun had begun convulsing with contractions. They tucked her into the bathtub which they began filling with warm water to help with the muscle pain. Aimi had begun knocking on doors, trying to find someone to take them to the hospital.

They had banned Genji from coming inside since he was proving to be remarkably unhelpful until Ha-Yun had threatened to drown him in the toilet if he didn’t do something useful. So Genji had begun looking up how to deliver babies on the internet and coached Hanzo how to care for Ha-Yun. 

Hana had been born in that bathtub shortly before Aimi had been able to find a ride to the hospital in form of the matriarch of the street, a severe old woman everyone called  _ Sobo _ -Hana - her namesake. 

To his surprise, Hanzo leaned his head back on Jesse’s shoulder and kissed the curve of his jaw. “That’s how I got into cooking, you know?”

“Oh?” Jesse asked, surprised. “Helping Ha-Yun give birth?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but was laughing. “No, but Genji likes to joke that that was what ‘turned’ me gay.” Jesse snorted then hummed when Hanzo reached back to scratch in Jesse’s messy hair. “Well, when they went off to the hospital, I stayed behind to clean up. All of the neighbors heard about it and came over to help out and celebrate. We all ended up cooking - that’s how I learned that Luis could cook so he and Herbalist Tang taught me what they knew and gave me hints and that’s what I always count the start of North Wind if someone asks. Genji has another opinion but that’s for him.”

“Amazing,” Jesse breathed and pressed a kiss. 

Wiggling in his lap, Hanzo fished out his phone and showed Jesse a picture of the brothers, Hana, and who he now recognized as Ha-Yun. Hana stood between the brothers, Ha-Yun lingering at Hanzo’s other side. The girl wore a bright pink shirt with sparkling purple and white letters that said PRINCESS; Genji wore a green shirt that said THE FUN UNCLE while Hanzo’s blue shirt said THE FAVORITE UNCLE. Ha-Yun had her head cradled in her hands in exasperation but Jesse could see the slight curve of a smile. 

“You must miss her,” Jesse murmured.

“More than anything,” Hanzo breathed, looking at the picture until the screen turned black. 

Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Do you love her?”

Hanzo twisted where he lay to look at Jesse. With one hand he reached up and ran his fingers gently along the scruff of his jaw. “Not like that,” he assured Jesse. “I loved Ha-Yun dearly but my feelings for her had never strayed more than an attractive sister.” 

“Some people are into that,” Jesse muttered, closing his eyes as Hanzo’s hand wandered up to tug gently at his hair. 

“I’m not,” Hanzo assured him dryly. “I appreciated her beauty but felt no urge to do more than admire it like one would admire a painting in a museum.” 

Jesse pressed a kiss to the fingers playing with the scruff of his ears, nuzzling against the uneven fingertips from scars of knife wounds and burns from Hanzo’s own form of art. “Sorry, darlin’.”

“No worries,” Hanzo dismissed easily and settled himself against Jesse once more. 

After a long moment’s pause, Jesse played the show again. 

“You look hot like that, darlin’,” Jesse murmured playfully into Hanzo’s ear as a clip of him in the show’s signature jacket and apron played. 

Hanzo snorted. “The jacket didn’t fit.” 

“I think it looks  _ just fine. _ ” Hanzo wiggled in his lap, unable to hide his smile as Jesse pressed his lips to the soft skin behind his ear. Turning over in his lap, Hanzo kissed Jesse deeply. “Don’t distract me, darlin’,” Jesse teased, nipping at Hanzo’s lips as the other chefs were introduced. “I want to see you kick ass in your element.”

The other man groaned and tucked himself closer against Jesse’s chest. “I did poorly,” he grumbled. 

“Not according to what Zarya said,” Jesse assured him, trailing his fingers up and down the dip of Hanzo’s spine. 

Hanzo glanced up at Jesse. “So you know what happens already.”

“Nope,” Jesse said glibly. “And I told them not to spoil it for me. Zarya told me that she was rooting for you, though - high praise from her since…” he trailed off, realizing rather belatedly that he probably shouldn’t tell Hanzo about Zarya’s...annoyance. 

But Hanzo was perceptive and he sighed, relaxing into his arms. “Since she doesn’t like me,” he finished. 

“I was going to say something else.”

“No you weren’t,” Hanzo grumbled though not unkindly. He toyed with Jesse’s fingers in an absent sort of way. “Or if you were, it was different wording for the same idea.”

Jesse pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s hairline, all he could easily reach, and tangled their fingers together. “Zarya and I ain’t close,” he murmured. “Not as close as me an’ ‘Ree, but she cares. She didn’t like...the idea that I may have forced you into anything. Things could have been handled differently but Ana did right by sending her and ‘Ree away when she did.” He tugged Hanzo up and kissed him properly. “But  _ Chopped _ is her favorite show and that you were in it endeared her more to you than you’d ever know.” 

Hanzo was adorable when he blushed and Jesse pressed soft kisses to his face. He tilted his head up and they kissed lazily. 

“Darlin’,” Jesse said with a laugh. “You’re distracting me from the basket ingredients.” 

“Frog legs, red finger chilies, bok choy, pig face roulade,” Hanzo said immediately, wrinkling his nose.

Chuckling, Jesse pressed a kiss to the bridge of Hanzo’s nose. “I wonder how you’d know that?”

The look Hanzo shot him seemed unamused but there was a wicked glee in his dark eyes. “Maybe I really like  _ Chopped _ .” 

Jesse hummed and kissed Hanzo, allowing the other man to deepen the kiss before pulling away. “But I really like that hot guy with the tattoos,” he protested. “I wanna see how he kicks butt.” 

Hanzo groaned but it was teasing. He subsided though he undulated his body with a sinful smirk and turned so his back was against Jesse’s chest. This time it was Jesse who groaned; in retaliation he “casually” cupped Hanzo’s pecs with both hands, his thumbs resting at the edge of his sensitive nipples. 

His boyfriend snorted but was careful to not move his chest toward or away from his touch. 

They watched in relative silence as the show continued. Hanzo explained briefly that the producers were keeping track of what they were doing off-camera and that the mid-round interviews were actually conducted after people were eliminated. Jesse watched absently as Hanzo went on to explain the long hours - that judging could take more than an hour, that each of the judges had a scorecard that weren’t shown on-camera. They talked a lot more to each chef, inspected their stations and tried what was in the pans while it was hot, made a lot of inappropriate jokes; he said that they sometimes made him laugh but annoyed the producers enough that their mics were sometimes turned off. 

Hanzo added quietly that he doubted any of the shots of him laughing made it into the final cut but didn’t elaborate. 

He quieted further when they went to the first judging round and Jesse finally saw what he meant. The Hanzo he saw on TV was brash, angry, defensive. He snarled and snapped like a cornered animal, so vehemently defending his plate that Jesse found himself tugging Hanzo closer. 

This wasn’t the Hanzo that smiled so widely for Hana, who guided his hands in the kitchen like a master puppeteer, who woke Jesse up with a wicked grin and soft touches. This wasn’t even the Hanzo that Jesse had seen in the produce stand, inspecting each and every fruit and vegetable for natural perfection; the fire that burned in his eyes now didn’t match the brilliance Jesse had seen when talking about international cuisine and spices with Ana and Genji. 

The Hanzo he saw on TV was one that was tired and desperate. There were deep grooves drawn into the flesh around his eyes and lips and his lips - those lips that had so teased Jesse earlier were curled in a sneer.

Jesse tugged Hanzo even closer and pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Hanzo twitched, gasped, and arched his back in surprise. “I like that sound better,” Jesse teased, lipping at Hanzo’s earlobe. 

He distracted Hanzo very thoroughly until the judging came up; Hanzo snarled when he stopped. Unsurprisingly the chef that had cut himself and bled all over his food and cutting board was eliminated and Jesse rewarded Hanzo by cupping his pecs, careful to keep his grip away from where Hanzo really wanted him to touch. 

Hanzo snarled when he stopped, murmuring that he didn’t want to miss the entree basket ingredients. “Lamb, lassi, spinach,  _ doubanjiang _ ,” his boyfriend snapped before they were announced.

He was rewarded again and whined high in his throat. “What’s...dou- _ bang _ -jang, darlin?” Jesse asked, pressing a soft kiss to Hanzo’s neck. 

“Chili and bean sauce,” Hanzo gasped out. He whined again when Jesse squeezed him and pressed another kiss, this time to Hanzo’s temple. 

Jesse hummed, running his fingers up and down Hanzo’s toned stomach. For all his apparent distraction and the hot, wiggling man in his lap, Jesse’s attention was entirely engrossed by the TV. He watched the angry version of Hanzo there craft dishes seemingly out of nothing. 

From a hundred scattered pieces he created a masterpiece. 

Eventually his distraction could not be ignored but Hanzo merely lay comfortably in his lap, relaxing into his lax touch. Hanzo twined their fingers together. “What are you thinking?” 

Jesse cuked in a reflexive breath as the host began counting down the time; Hanzo murmured at the edge of his awareness that everyone had timers, had people to call out the time for them whenever they asked, were always reminded of how much of their very limited time was left. 

The Hanzo on the TV ran around for a final herb to make the perfect presentation. He threw his towel down in rage when he realized - according to his interview - were not as perfect as he wanted. In his restaurant, he said, he was called  _ oyabun _ , the leader of the  _ yakuza _ . He was obeyed without question and only released perfection. The mess on his shallow plates looked like the leftover slop that the kinder hearts of his kitchen would feed to the stray cats in the back alley. 

Leaning down, Jesse pressed a gentle kiss to Hanzo’s jaw. “What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly. Hanzo had gone very still. 

“I hadn’t thought about that comment,” Hanzo murmured, a splotchy flush rising on the back of his neck. 

“What comment?”

“ _ Oyabun _ .” 

Jesse chuckled. “Sounds hot,” he murmured. “What does it mean?”

Twisting, Hanzo looked at him. “ _ Oyabun _ \- or  _ kumichō _ \- is the name of a  _ yakuza _ mob boss,” he said as if he thought Jesse rather dense; his eyes were confused and Jesse belatedly remembered that the angry Hanzo on the TV had explained it already. 

Humming, Jesse drew his hands up and down Hanzo’s stocky body, feeling the dip and swell of muscles. He could touch them a hundred times with fingertips and tongue and lips and never get enough of them. 

“Hot,” he murmured into Hanzo’s ear. He brought his flesh hand up to Hanzo’s pec and cradled it with his pointer finger and thumb, letting the rest of his fingers trail ticklish lines down the other man’s side as he relaxed them. “Can I call you that?  _ Oyabun _ ?” 

Hanzo shivered beneath him. “ _ Dame! _ ” 

Chuckling, Jesse let the timbre of his voice get deeper, felt his chest rumble against Hanzo’s back. “ _ Oyabun? _ ” He pressed a kiss to the back of Hanzo’s ear and felt him shiver again. 

Snarling, Hanzo twisted in his arms and held his body over Jesse’s, looking like a tiger stalking his prey. Jesse tucked a knuckle under Hanzo’s chin and tugged him up for a gentle kiss before he could be reprimanded. 

On the TV, the host announced who was eliminated - it wasn’t Hanzo. 

Jesse tugged Hanzo closer so he sat astride his hips. He toyed with the jut of Hanzo’s hips, dipping his thumbs under the hem of his shirt. “Ain’t never seen nothin’ as beautiful as you,  _ oyabun _ ,” he murmured, all teasing gone from his voice. 

From his perch - his  _ throne _ \- Hanzo blinked down at him and a shy smile crept across his face. He reached down and tangled their fingers together. “You’re a flatterer,” he said, tugging Jesse’s hand to his face to nip playfully at his fingers. “An  _ oyabun _ brings fear, not beauty.” 

“Maybe,” Jesse hummed. “But ain’t nobody I’d rather be under, darlin’.  _ Oyabun _ .”

Hanzo leaned down and kissed him. “Stop teasing me,” he said firmly in a voice that  _ did things _ to Jesse. Was this his kitchen voice, the one he used as the absolute leader at North Wind? 

Pressed as close as they were, Hanzo had to have felt the way Jesse was affected by his voice. He smiled, regal and haughty like the crime lord his staff had teasingly named him. “You know I mean no harm by it, darlin’,” Jesse murmured back and smiling, Hanzo leaned down to draw him into a long kiss as he ground his hips down.

Jesse groaned and suddenly Hanzo was  _ gone _ .

“Payback,” Hanzo said from the kitchen. 

On the TV, the host announced the ingredients for the dessert basket:bananas, pomegranate juice, phyllo dough, white miso. The angry Hanzo on the screen expressed displeasure at the basket; his opponent was smug because he was sure he could beat Hanzo.

Unable to look at the other chef without feeling rage boiling in him, Jesse instead twisted to look at Hanzo. He had a sort of longing look in his eyes as he watched the TV from the kitchen, backed into the corner by the refrigerator. 

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Jesse asked, standing and walking over the Hanzo. 

The chef jumped and bent to open the fridge. He took two of Rein’s unlabeled beers out by their long necks and quickly opened their caps. Jesse boldly stepped into his space, tucking his prosthetic arm around Hanzo’s waist. 

“Darlin’?” he asked. 

Hanzo looked down and away, focused on something just past Jesse’s metal elbow. “I prefer that name,” he muttered and tilted his head slowly - as if he were afraid that Jesse would reject him, he realized - to rest a sharp cheekbone on Jesse’s collarbone. The bottles sagged in his grip. “Darling.”

“I’ll call you ‘darlin’’ a thousand times if it would make you happy,” Jesse murmured into Hanzo’s shaved skull. “I’d bring you the moon if it’d make you smile.” 

Very carefully Jesse tugged Hanzo closer, held him tighter, while he used his other hand to free the bottles and place them on the counter. Gently he began rocking them to a beat that was just the two of them, separate from the frenetic theme music still coming from the TV. 

“ [ I couldn’t do it ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtFwuPnzidE) ,” Hanzo murmured against Jesse’s chest. “If I stood where you stood.”

Jesse hummed. “Do what, darlin’?” He bit his tongue against the “L-word”. Was it too early for that?

“I am insensitive, I have a tendency to pay more attention to the things that I need,” Hanzo said, his words beginning to speed up, get louder, as he clutched Jesse with fingers that would probably leave bruises. A shaking hand released its grip on his back and drifted down to Jesse’s prosthetic, fingering the rough connection between metal and flesh. “Sometimes I don’t know why you’re staying with me - I’m hard to love; I don’t make it easy.” 

Humming, Jesse drew Hanzo closer, pressing chaste kisses to whatever bit of skin that he could reach. “I wish that I could be more like you.”

He was ready for Hanzo’s inevitable recoil and so held him tighter for it. Forgotten behind them, the episode continued; the host began counting down the last ten seconds of time while the judges twisted anxiously in their seats. 

“You’re like a Sunday morning, full of grace and full of fire and I wish that I could be more like you,” Jesse breathed. “You do magic, darlin’; a kind of magic that I can’t touch, can’t wield and...God Almighty it takes my breath away.”

Hanzo clung tighter to him. “You saw how I am.”

“I saw someone scared,” Jesse replied. “I don’t know of what, but I saw someone that felt he needed to prove something...but had forgotten why he was doing he loved.”

For a long moment they simply rocked together in the kitchen. “How did you know?” Hanzo asked, muffled. 

“It seemed like you,” Jesse replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. “You get so caught up in your own head...you have such a single-minded focus. It’s amazing.” 

On the TV, they discussed judging and Hanzo’s misstep - whatever it was - in the dessert round. Jesse wasn’t at all loathe to miss it, not when he heard Hanzo’s nameless-by-his-perspective competitor gloating over it. 

“Genji and I fought the night before,” Hanzo admitted. “I don’t even remember what it was about but we were both petty and childish. We both said many things we...didn’t truly mean.” 

“Ah,” Jesse said. “That makes sense.” He could certainly understand that - how many times had he butted heads with the other Strays? With the Parents? How many times had his lips released some hurtful vitriol that burned and ate away like rot?

Hanzo clung tighter to him. “That night when I got home I saw that he had called. He left a voicemail saying how sorry he was for the words he said...but he was right.”

The last few words were said almost to himself, whispered into Jesse’s chest. 

“I doubt it,” Jesse told him softly. “People say things - false truths - when they’re angry and hurt.” He kissed Hanzo’s nose when he tilted his head to look up at him. “You don’t need to tell me what was said but I know it was only said in the heat of the moment.” 

Hanzo hugged him tighter, a glimmer of tears in his dark eyes. Leaning down, Jesse carefully picked him up and with a watery chuckle Hanzo grabbed the beers from the counter as Jesse walked past to return to the couch. 

Neither of them talked about the chef celebrating his winning with a gloating smirk or Hanzo’s shaking or the tears shining in his eyes. Jesse kissed them away anyway before reclaiming Hanzo’s mouth. They tilted backwards on the couch so that Hanzo was once more perched on his throne of Jesse’s hips. 

They watched something else - something that wasn’t a painful sore to Hanzo and made out like horny teenagers on the couch. 

Late that night, Hanzo admitted that he was afraid of cooking sometimes. He loved it, loved the food and the art and the technical side of it but there was just something...it was like the show had ripped open a scab he hadn’t known was there. 

He admitted into the anonymity of Jesse’s dark room that he sometimes shook on the line, sometimes felt like he couldn’t function. His brother was the award-winning chef, not Hanzo - not the one that’d been cooking for  _ years _ before Genji had decided to go to culinary school on a whim.  _ He _ had spent days, hours, slaving over the stove, practicing his knife skills and all of the techniques but Genji hadn’t practiced, had danced his way through life  _ as always _ and had come out just fine. 

The words Genji had spat at him that night before Hanzo was to appear that he didn’t know why it was  _ Hanzo _ there and not Genji; after all, he was the more handsome and talented brother - why should it not be Genji?

It was something Jesse knew he would never shake from Hanzo’s memory, something he alone couldn’t convince him otherwise. So he did all he could: he held Hanzo closer and rained kisses on that tear-streaked face and ran his hands over the expanses of skin Hanzo had bared for him and tugged him closer - chastely - so that they were hopelessly tangled together. 

“It’s magic to me,” Jesse told Hanzo quietly as his breathing began to even out as he drifted off to sleep. Hanzo made a sleepy, inquisitive noise and Jesse pressed a kiss to his nose just to watch it wrinkle cutely. “It’s not something I can do,” he reminded the half-asleep Hanzo. “And I watch you...it’s like magic.”

Hanzo made a sound of sleepy protest and Jesse tugged him closer. “‘S not magic.” he mumbled. 

Chuckling, Jesse kissed him gently and let him fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd slow down updates, but I thought I'd post this before I left for the weekend. It's just a silly little chapter I put together when I realized that Jesse and Hanzo hadn't really had their second date to watch Chopped yet. 
> 
> Did you know that Wikipedia has a pretty extensive list of episodes and mystery basket ingredients? Well now you do. The baskets Hanzo mentions are real baskets but they're not all from the same episode. 
> 
> That being said, depending on when I get back Sunday, I may post another if i feel like the notes I jot down this weekend are sufficient enough to reward myself by posting another haha. I'm more reluctant to post that since now the Plot A Train is starting to pick up steam and momentum and I want to make sure that everything comes out right.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos and for sticking with this hot mess haha. 
> 
> ~DC


	18. Don't Blink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't blink  
> Just like that you're six years old and you take a nap and you  
> Wake up and you're twenty-five and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife  
> Don't blink  
> You just might miss your babies growing like mine did  
> Turning into moms and dads next thing you know your "better half"  
> Of fifty years is there in bed  
> And you're praying God takes you instead  
>  **Trust me friend a hundred years goes faster than you think  
>  So don't blink**
> 
> ~ _Don’t Blink_ by Kenny Chesney

Time passed.

As he continued his PT with Pums, she became concerned with his back and spine due to the weight difference between his prosthetic arm and his flesh arm. Together they researched prosthetics and ordered a new one that would more closely match the weight of his “true” arm.

When it came in, Rishi volunteered to paint a design on it if he would only decide on one. For the most part it remained blank except for a label by his elbow:  _ If found, please return to John Jesse McCree _ .

Though he acted indignant, everyone knew that Jesse was more than a little amused.

Pums decided – completely independently of his or Bastian’s machinations, she informed them dryly – to take their PT to Jack’s Farm for a change in pace and scenery. If Hana and Lucio were suspicious of the sudden idea, they gave no sign. Their therapist explained that it was good for them to practice walking over uneven ground and they all got so into it that it got Bastian out of his chair and walking around on his own prosthetic legs though he required someone to stand beside him at all times for assistance.

Ana, Fareeha, and Zarya were all more than helpful in that regard. To Jesse’s surprise, even Jamie came over and showed them how to milk the goats though it was met with varying levels of success due to their individual handicaps. By the end of the day, as Bastian was becoming tired Zarya picked him up and carried him around on her shoulders, much to his undisguised delight.

That she was secretly disturbed by him – a feat because Zarya was unapologetically honest in most cases – was not explicitly told to Bastian though Jesse was sure he was aware.

Hanzo began to visit more often and Aimi told Jesse when Hanzo wouldn’t that he was scouting for places in the area to stay. His brother, though he didn’t ever stop by the farm, was also in the area looking for places for their next restaurant.

Between Ana and Jesse, Hanzo’s protests were whittled down to nothing and he eventually agreed to consider living in the Barracks officially with them. Ana teasingly gave him room 14, across the width of the building from Jesse, “to preserve his modesty” though it was an unspoken given that Hanzo far more often than not spent the night in Jesse’s room.

When Hana was released, she came to the Barracks as well and was given a ground-floor room that Jesse, Hanzo, and Zarya had cleared out and adapted for her use and style. She claimed that her tears were from the lingering smell of paint and they left it at that.

Aimi moved back into the apartment she had previously shared with Ha-Yun. For that entire week, he heard nothing from Hanzo, Hana, or Aimi as they cleaned out Ha-Yun’s personal effects but when they returned Hanzo and Hana were unusually subdued.

Hana clutched a small box to her chest with a death grip and wouldn’t speak of it the entire time.

Two weeks later, Bastian agreed to move in next to her and they worked at odd hours with Ana to distract the girl as they modified the room next to her for him. The look on her face when she came out one morning to breakfast in time to see Bastian leave his room was priceless and she nearly knocked over his chair in her excitement to hug him.

Lucio eventually made the move as well, but he explained it simply as lingering legal issues that he had to deal with. He didn’t clarify and no one really asked more than that but he moved in on Hana’s other side and Pums showed up on site for their PT appointments.

As September rolled through and the fall weather began coming out, their family grew and Jesse couldn’t be happier.

Hanzo split his time awkwardly between North Wind in Philly and Jack’s Farm, sending Jesse pictures of Cat when he had to stay over after a long shift. Sometimes Rishi would visit with Hanzo and claim his “actual” room while Hanzo slept over in Jesse’s.

Unsurprisingly Rein, Angela, and Ana  _ loved _ having two unusual cooks over. Though they never asked for his specific recipe, they asked for tips on milk tea, something Angela had wanted to add to the menu at the Diner for some time. As serious as a monk, Rishi had obliged and gave demonstrations.

Hanzo took his turn making dinners as well, a part of his agreement for his rent period for Hana and himself. He showed Ana his recipes, much to her glee as she was unfamiliar with the cuisines that were his specialty. On the days he was over and Jesse was working, he’d join her in the kitchen for a cooking marathon.

Everything  _ wasn’t _ perfect, of course it wasn’t; Hanzo tended to hover nervously over Jesse and Hana but in the end neither of them could stay  _ too _ mad at him for it considering what he had been through on his end while they were in the hospital. They both heard from Rishi, who was honest to a fault, what kind of stress he had gone through as Hana’s legal guardian and the choices he had to make even as he was still mourning Ha-Yun and reeling from her very sudden loss. Though it grated on their nerves, they tried to be understanding.

Usually it was Hana that snapped and that was something that the two of them needed to handle together. Jesse didn’t know the poisonous words she may have hurled at him in Korean but he knew the results as those nights had Hanzo waking in a cold sweat.

It was early mornings like that where Jesse found himself more often than not playing hide-and-seek with his boyfriend, trying to find the new place he had hidden himself to suffer alone. It took some time but Hanzo eventually gave up and would lie limply across Jesse in their bed until he could calm down enough to sleep again, warmed (he hoped) by Jesse’s embrace.

As September waned into October, Hanzo invited Jesse over to the apartment he shared with Genji and Rishi and he got to meet Cat for the first time.

He was uglier in person and had a cold, shriveled heart as black as coal but  _ adored _ Rishi to the point where Jesse was sure the damn creature was schizophrenic as it had so many personality shifts it seemed more like three creatures instead of one.

Cat didn’t like him and he didn’t like Cat but surprisingly once that boundary was established, they  _ almost _ got along.

How that mangy creature had enough fur to create hairballs was a mystery that Jesse had no interest in solving but he quickly learned to check his shoes before he put them on.

When Hanzo wasn’t working, he’d take Jesse around Chinatown as only a local could. They had soup dumplings and bubble tea that Jesse wasn’t sure he liked and walked to Reading Terminal Market and lingered in all of the shops and food stalls there. Hanzo snapped pictures of him eating a pastrami reuben and spilling dressing and oil all over himself or of him trying sheep’s cheese for the first time. They took selfies like tourists on street corners and in front of City Hall and on one memorable night when Genji had agreed to go out to the bars with them (a miraculous thing, that) when they had gone to a “barcade”.

Ana framed the picture Rishi took of Jesse bracketed by both brothers and the selfie Jesse later sent of the four of them around a fire pit at a beer garden, all of them holding truly massive steins of beer.

Rein was distraught to learn that he missed it and made Hanzo promise to take him sometime.

He learned too late that Genji had amassed a collection of pictures of them making out in awkward places – most of which were selfies he took with his annoyed expression in the lower corner and a lot as screenshots of snapchats – when he gave them an old-fashioned photo album filled with gloss prints. Hanzo was mortified; Jesse found it more than a little amusing though he teased Genji that he was a stalker.

Regardless, both knew that it was Genji’s quiet way of expressing his approval –  _ finally _ – of them. On the very last page was a handwritten note in English and Japanese:

_ To many more moments _

_ I hope I will never have to see. _

In late October, Aimi called her sons, their significant others, and Hana to her small Chinatown apartment and spread out a truly massive pile of letters written in flowing Japanese characters. Jesse, Rishi, and Hana watched, all understanding the reason for the call as soon as it was given, as Aimi informed her sons that she was returning to Japan to be with their father.

Genji was livid and Rishi chased after him when he stomped away; Hanzo was resigned and Jesse and Hana squeezed his hands or knee reassuringly.

That night Hanzo slept in his own room at the Barracks for the first time in months and Jesse tried not to be too unhappy about it. He still woke up with Hanzo in his arms, miraculously, and he gently kissed him awake and rewarded his nighttime return accordingly.

After that, Jesse didn’t see much of the brothers or Hana, who were all busy helping Aimi collapse her life in the United States to move back to Japan. He received dozens of messages from them of boxes and shipping receipts and of Hana becoming tangled in a large roll of bubble wrap. There were pictures of a gradually-emptying living room, of baby pictures of Hanzo (sent by Genji) and matching pictures of his brother (sent by Hanzo in retaliation), and pictures of Hana when she was a chubby baby held very awkwardly by a disturbed-looking Hanzo.

He saved all of them and did his best to send his support in return.

A week after they disappeared from the Barracks, construction workers arrived.

It was unusual to have a lot of winter crops out in the fields – most of them were tended in the greenhouses due to the cold and snow – so Jesse was curious when Ana scheduled him to drive hot meals out to one of the fields on the Dorado run. It was the very last one, the edge of which butted up against the main road in front of Base and was typically called Cornfield #76. Still, it would be an easy drive so he didn’t mind so he and Zarya loaded up Payload and drifted down the slight hill.

He was curious to find the construction crew but if Ana said so, her word was law and they were meant to be there. They were kind and appreciative of the lunch, especially the warm pies that Ana had included with her delivery.

Ana gave him an enigmatic smile when he asked and pointed to Jack’s map hanging on the wall. The man himself was sitting like an artist staring critically at his unfinished painting, digging through a large list of produce requests submitted by the businesses that bought in bulk.

“ _ Need help, old man? _ ” Jesse teased in Spanish as he walked into the dining room.

Jack grunted. “ _ I’m not old, _ ” he grumbled in the same language. “ _ Did you need something? _ ” He glanced past Jesse. “Oh. Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner.” He gestured to the map, at a black square drawn in dry-erase marker to the site Jesse had just delivered hot lunches to. From the smudges, it had been up there for a while.

It was labeled SOUTH WIND RESTAURANT.

Three days later they had a small party at Base for Lucio and Bastian to bid Aimi goodbye. Hanzo and Genji turned out a truly obscene amount of food and they all gorged themselves, even Bastian who didn’t typically like to eat in front of company. They toasted Aimi and Aimi toasted her sons’ second restaurant, the three of them taking a picture in front of Jack’s map and the plot where the restaurant would be built.

The week after he began delivering the lunches to the construction workers, he was invited to Aimi’s going-away party in Philly. Hanzo called him separately to ask if he could bring a truck as he was moving out of his apartment with Genji to devote his full time and attention to South Wind.

To his quiet pleasure, Aimi’s party was held privately at North Wind and took up the whole restaurant area. He had expected something inordinately fancy and had worried the entire way that the button-down and slacks he had brought were insufficient but Hanzo had laughed – kindly – when he suggested he would be underdressed and admitted that it was casual even without the party. They served comfort food, Hanzo explained. Nothing had to be particularly  _ fancy _ for that.

Still, Jesse wore his button-down and slacks and smirked when he saw and felt Hanzo’s hungry eyes on him the entire night.

Though he was incredibly fond of Aimi, he hadn’t realized how much she had been involved in their community until he saw the crowd that had gathered at the restaurant.

Hana explained, having to shout to be heard over the noise, that all of the cooks in the back were volunteers – had done so and refused pay for that night. More importantly to Hana and Aimi, they refused to let Hanzo or Genji help in any way: the dishes they served were all Aimi’s recipes and all cooked, bought, and planned by them.

Despite being friendly by nature, Jesse was still overwhelmed and stuck beside Hana who dutifully introduced him to everyone when Hanzo couldn’t be spared from whatever he was doing. He got to meet Pums’ fathers which was a fascinating experience in and of itself: a man named Herbalist Tang, who had a strong Chinese ( _ Cantonese, cowboy _ , Hana had corrected) accent and his husband, a man named Luis who was sometimes called The Fairy. Luis explained that the name came from Herbalist Tang’s parents, who refused to believe that Luis spoke Cantonese and had insulted him the entire time they had known him. They called him The Fairy, mocking his…soft nature despite looking like a Norwegian bodybuilder.

Pums was there was well and she greeted him grumpily but Hana explained it away as her being uncomfortable in crowds.

There was a kind woman around Aimi’s age named Aiko ( _ not confusing at all, _ Jesse muttered to Hana who giggled). Hana explained that Aiko’s grandmother,  _ Sobo _ -Hana, was her namesake and had been known as the unofficial queen of their street when Genji and Hanzo were growing up. Being the same age as Aimi, they were close and would visit each other while Aiko took care of her grandmother before her death.

Names and complex relations passed confusingly across Jesse, who kissed cheeks and shook hands and took hugs automatically. Mrs. Yang (not to be confused with Herbalist Tang or his other adopted daughter Herbalist Yan who Hana called Yan-Yan after a popular Japanese candy) was a lawyer that awarded Hanzo legal guardianship of Hana and a very strict restraining order against her birth father.

Jessica was a psychic that lived and worked down the street from Aimi’s apartment that Hana joked he should never speak to if he wanted to hear good news; the woman, as she shook his hand, informed him solemnly that  _ they say it’s always darkest before the sun rises _ and Jesse didn’t want to know what that meant.

Petyr was a man that looked like he had once been in the Russian Mafia and had a gap-toothed smile. He was Ha-Yun’s manager at the grocery store where she worked part-time and had been a fixture in young Hana’s life when he would babysit her in the back while her mother did inventory. Hana called him “Petty” but Jesse didn’t dare call him anything other than the name he was given by the man himself.

Maria was Luis’s niece that worked in the kitchen, usually on Hanzo’s staff. She was estranged from her family and lived with Luis and Herbalist Tang in their apartment and had the  _ hugest _ crush on Hanzo. There was a bit of vindictive glee in Hana’s voice as she introduced Jesse to her as “Hanzo’s cowboyfriend, Jesse” and more in the way she watched the other woman excuse herself as soon as was mannerly.

The chefs poked their heads out as well in small clumps as they took food out to the tables. Hana introduced them all as she tugged him to their seats on the table of honor with Genji, Rishi, Hanzo, and Aimi.

Tomko was an old friend of Aimi’s. She had also grown up in Japan as a fisherman’s wife until her husband was murdered; some thought there was  _ yakuza _ interference but no one dared question it and Tomko had escaped to America. Hana swore by her fish – she had no formal training but had generations of fish knowledge in cooking and cleaning and to Hana’s knowledge had never been wrong in her preparations.

Jury – a name she called herself – had the fastest knives in the back and she cleaned, sharpened, and honed all of the sets kept in the kitchen and treated everyone’s personal sets as well.

More and more, all of them introduced to “Hanzo’s cowboyfriend, Jesse” by Hana. The only thing that stopped him from avoiding the embarrassment was knowing that she was using him to hide from questions about her injuries, her deafness, and her mother. So Jesse played the part of the loud-mouthed cowboy ( _ farmer _ , he kept correcting,  _ horses ain’t my thing _ and depending on who he was speaking to, he’d add,  _ but I make an exception for Hanzo _ and they’d laugh or excuse themselves quickly depending on their natures) and kept their attention on him instead of her. He sat dutifully with her when her stumps began to ache and kept her occupied so that most wouldn’t approach her to ask what everyone was clearly wondering.

He saw Pums, Rishi, and the Shimadas doing the same and something warm bloomed in his chest.

By the time the party wound down, it was well past midnight and Hana was nearly asleep, leaning heavily on his shoulder. Jesse took the task of carrying her to bed seriously. When asked to, he and Hanzo tucked her in the backseat of Jesse’s truck and when they got back to Hanzo and Genji’s condo carried her upstairs. Between the two of them (even though Hanzo was a little too drunk for it, having toasted and cheers’ed to Aimi’s good fortune and well wishes many, many times that night) they woke her enough to get her to change into pajamas, remove her cochlear implants and prosthetics, and climb into bed.

When she still clung to wakefulness, Jesse sat beside her bed with Hanzo looking on and read her a story. Hana pressed a hand to his throat and lips, the one still wrapped in a cast to the center of his chest to hear the rumble of his voice until she fell asleep.

Jesse was glad that Hanzo had nearly fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress because he woke up later to a small fist in a pink cast nudging his shoulder. In the dim light that drifted through the cracks in the curtains, he could see Hana with her knuckles pressed to her mouth. He didn’t know what she said but he caught the sign for  _ dream _ and he supposed it didn’t matter anyway.

It was easy to lift her with his good arm between him and Hanzo, much to her wide-eyed disbelief. He wrenched something in his back that he’d deal with later with the awkward motion and tugged her into the space between him and Hanzo who grunted as he woke up. But Hanzo didn’t question it, drowsily helping Jesse and Hana remove her prosthetic legs before pressing a gentle kiss to Hana’s forehead and falling still. From the slivers of his dark eyes he wasn’t quite asleep but Jesse was sure that he couldn’t count much on Hanzo’s help if Hana wanted to talk.

He tugged Hana so that she was more securely tucked between them, her tiny form fitting perfectly in the gap between their bodies with her head tucked against Hanzo’s collarbone. She wiggled until she faced Jesse, the one that was the most awake.

_ Dream _ , she signed.  _ You and Hanzo. Mom. Dream. _

“I need to get better at this,” Jesse muttered to himself and she pouted. He tapped her nose gently with his good hand.  _ Us? _ He signed to her.

_ Yes. Us. Us-us-us-us. Cry. _

_ Why cry? _ Jesse asked.

_ Mom. _

Duh. Jesse grunted tiredly and Hana pressed a hand to his chest with a frown. When he said nothing more, she pouted and he stuck his tongue out at her.  _ Not mom but _ , Jesse signed awkwardly. The  _ but _ was done one-handed, his prosthetic having been tossed to the side as he got ready for bed and he paused to make sure she understood the half-gesture before continuing, [I-L-Y](http://lifeprint.com/asl101/topics/i_love_you.htm) _. We-we-we-we I-L-Y _ .

Teary, Hana mashed her face into his chest and collarbone and Jesse tried to awkwardly cuddle both her and Hanzo closer. “Do you?” Hanzo whispered and Jesse looked up at him. In the silver light of the moon and the gentle golden glow of the city lights through the window, Hanzo seemed luminescent.

Moving carefully so he wouldn’t disturb Hana, Jesse sighed against Hanzo’s side, pressing his hands and fingers so he’d feel it even if he couldn’t see it.  _ Yes-yes-yes-yes. I-L-Y. _

Hanzo smiled and leaned across the gap between them, filled with Hana’s curled form, to press a gentle kiss to Jesse’s lips.

As he was drifting back off to sleep, he felt a small hand press against his chest. The points of three fingers dug into his collarbone and pectorals and he smiled without opening his eyes, shifting a hand off Hanzo’s hip to teasingly tug Hana’s hair so she giggled.  _ I-L-Y _ .

* * *

They moved Hanzo’s stuff out of the condo and cleared out Hana’s room as well since she’d be more or less spending all of her time at the Barracks.

Of course “they” was used loosely: Hana, Jesse, and Rishi did most of the work while the brothers lay on the couch, both painfully hungover. They awkwardly hugged when Rishi and Jesse were done loading Jesse’s truck and then they were gone.

Another week and Aimi boarded her one-way flight back to Japan and they were all there once more to see her off at the airport. Jesse had never been a part of “that” family that had clustered by the security checkpoints and something in his bloomed with warmth when he finally got to do just that.

Hana clung to his and Hanzo’s hands, bundled tightly in a pink and white scarf knitted with eyelash yarn by Ana with a matching “sock” to cover her cast-wrapped arm. It was only on for another week just to be safe and then she would be free.

She lamented privately to Jesse that it would mean more PT but it was a price to pay for freedom, she supposed.

Time went on.

Thanksgiving came and went and they all celebrated at Base, stuffing themselves on sucking pig and roasted goose courtesy of Hog and Jamie instead of turkey. There were gravies and mashed potatoes, rice, and three kinds of stuffing when Genji and Hanzo got into a competition between the two of them. Angela made fresh cranberry sauce and a green bean casserole; Rein made pumpkin and cranberry beers just for the occasion.

The night before they realized that Bastian and Lucio hadn’t had a proper Thanksgiving since they had been admitted to Watchpoint. After a flurry of drunken calls, they mobilized and cooked through the night.

Orisa nearly cried outright when they rolled up on Thanksgiving morning, exhausted and with bags under their eyes, and began setting up tables and tables of homemade food. They served the staff and patients, going door to door with their plates and trays of food stacked precariously on old gurneys covered in tarps. A few of the patients joined their parade, including Gabe’s wordless shadow. She refused food at first, insisting in whispers to Gabe that she’d much rather help before she ate. Her presence caused a catalyst and some of the healthier patients joined their parade as well if only to steady the containers stacked awkwardly on the gurneys.

They dropped Lucio, Hana, and Bastian off with Orisa and the children while the rest of them continued to go around. Hanzo and the woman that Jesse now knew was Satya disappeared for an hour before reappearing with homemade taffy. Most of them went to the children’s ward but there were bowls that were distributed to the rest of the hospital.

Rishi and Genji disappeared as well but returned rather quickly, another gurney loaded with large stock pots of spiced cider, hot cocoa, and Rishi’s special  _ chiya _ .

When everyone was served they relocated into the kitchen where they all found the nearest flat place to sit and eat and did so. As Jesse cradled a drowsing Hana against one side and Hanzo on the other, he looked around. Rein, Angela, Ana, and Jack were all tangled up in a strange knot of people.

Gabe and his shadow were in another corner; she had stolen his beanie and wore it to cover the shaved sides of her head as she used one of his thighs as a pillow.

Jamie and Genji were tucked childishly into the sinks so that their legs and feet stuck up and out, using cutting boards to brace their backs against the sharp edge of the basins. He could just see Hog’s massive legs sticking out from a supply closet, the rest of the man’s body hidden in the shadows as if he had died of some food-related death; only Jamie’s nonchalance of it and his rattling snores convinced Jesse otherwise.

Fareeha had claimed a spot on one of the metal tables with Lucio taking the lower shelf as if it were a bunk bed.

Satya and Mei leaned against Orisa in another corner and Athena was draped dramatically across Dr. Winston’s lap as the head of Watchpoint leaned tiredly into a table. The remaining workers of Watchpoint had chased them off duty so that they could eat and get some rest.

Bastian’s head was leaning against Jesse’s knee, his chair tucked up close to Hana’s truncated legs – her prosthetics had begun to bother her and so they had been removed when they all finally sat down to eat.

“Best,” Bastian said quietly as Genji and Jamie wiggled their legs and giggled like children.

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed.

More time passed.

Gabe’s shadow joined them in the Barracks. She only said her real name once but didn’t seem to want to be known by it so they just called her  _ Sombra _ since more often than not she followed Gabe around closer than his own shadow. Jesse thought she was peculiar, had an odd way of clinging without physical contact. She was deeply suspicious of him and Jack but relaxed when she realized that they spoke Spanish as well.

It was clearly her language of choice.

She didn’t speak much and when she did it was with a heavy accent that reminded Jesse of hazy memories spent with his mother. Though she spoke, it was with a strange emptiness as if to fill a void that none but her could see.

Christmas approached. 

Hanzo hated the snow and kept himself bundled up in scarves and heavy winter gear. Jesse was unsurprised that he was showered with knitted scarves, hats, and mittens from Ana and Gabe who turned out to be surprisingly good at knitting which he continued to do in lieu of interacting with everyone else during movie nights. 

Despite the cold and his personal opinion of it, Hanzo was present at the job site every day. Jesse did the lunch delivery and would usually take Hana with him, as she had begun to express interest in the new restaurant. They made friends with the workers so the two of would eat with them until Hanzo showed up and chased them off, albeit with a smile and usually, if his errands weren’t too annoying to him, a kiss. 

The framework and exterior walls were built by mid-December and Genji began visiting more often as they began solidifying plans for the interior design and menus. 

Christmas came and more prepared for it, they went to Watchpoint again to make a Christmas Eve dinner for the permanent residents there. Genji and Hanzo brought serving trays, tables, and utensils from their restaurants and more chefs and assistants, who all stayed in the Barracks. 

With a lot of elbow grease they turned one of the lobbies into a dining room complete with decorations and a Christmas tree courtesy of Sombra and Gabe who had hunted just the right one down and dramatically dragged it to Watchpoint in the back of a horse-drawn carriage. 

An entire shift from North Wind volunteered and they made food more or less to order on Christmas Eve and for those that didn’t celebrate a Western idea of Christmas (more than half of the workers, Jesse was surprised to learn) spent all of the Day at Watchpoint preparing a feast. 

They exchanged presents. Hana, Lucio, and Bastian chipped in to buy Jesse a new cowboy hat complete with gold accents and a Sheriff's badge; he got them all matching ceramic animal figurines: a rabbit with a pink  _ mandala _ on its back for Hana, a frog with an exaggerated smile and a green and gold  _ mandala _ , and for Bastian a bird that wore a gold and orange  _ mandala _ as a collar. Bastian had an odd, sad smile when he saw it but when he thanked Jesse, it was happy and sincere. 

Hanzo explained that he had two gifts for Jesse, one with Genji and one in private, which made Hana and Genji groan. They blindfolded him and Jesse sat through an impossible few moments as he waited for them to bring his gift. It was worse when he heard everyone’s reaction before he was allowed to take the blindfold off: a paper was pressed into his hands and there was a clicking sound as a series of things were set down in front of him. Something hissed like a wild creature in front of him. Hana squealed, a touch too loudly. 

When they pulled back the blindfold, Jesse gasped. 

Genji described the dishes but all Jesse could see was the brilliant flush in Hanzo’s cheeks and the stars in his eyes. “I’ve got it bad,” Jesse told Hanzo when Genji was done talking. 

“I helped too, you know,” Genji pointed out with an exaggerated sigh of mock annoyance. He pretended to swoon, unnoticed by Jesse and Hanzo, into Rishi’s arms. 

Later when they were alone, they exchanged gifts. Jesse gave Hanzo a set of long silk ribbons for his hair; Hanzo gave a pair of outlandish and gaudy belt buckles. One said BAMF; the other said SAMF. 

“SAMF?” Jesse teased and Hanzo grinned. “What’s the ‘S’ for, darlin’?”

Hanzo leaned in close, pressing him into the wall of their bedroom. “What do  _ you _ think?” he asked, thumbing open Jesse’s current belt. 

When the rest of his family saw the buckles, he was promptly banned from wearing either of them in public by Gabe though Ana thought they were hilarious. 

Sombra didn’t look amused, but she rarely did anyway. She handed him a napkin . “ _ Next time check the mirror. _ ”

“Maybe I should learn Spanish,” Hanzo said dryly though he clearly got the gist of it, his face flushing bright red as he wiped at the corner of his mouth. 

“Please don’t,” Sombra said from the next room as she left. 

Time passed. 

The letter came a few days before New Year’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made good progress on another chapter so I thought I'd post another one. Toot toot, here comes the A Plot train. 
> 
> This is also to celebrate that I managed to get my internet back up and running after Comcast s**t on my d**k. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone that leaves kudos and comments and to all of those that don't. Thank you for sticking with this hot mess of a thing. 
> 
> ~DC
> 
> P.S.: For those of you that want to hear more of my shenanigans, I'm starting to use my tumblr account more. I may post some blurbs or background information on the characters in here or occasionally will say something weird about research I've done for the chapters I'm putting up. 
> 
> If for some reason you're still interested in that, you can find me at [classywastelandbread.tumblr.com](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). I recommend against trusting the link because I'm an idiot that can't get that right.


	19. Colder Weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She'd trade Colorado if he'd take her with him  
> Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in,  
> And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,  
> She's answered by the tail lights  
> Shining through the window pane
> 
> He said I wanna see you again  
> But I'm stuck in colder weather  
> Maybe tomorrow will be better  
> Can I call you then  
>  **She said you're ramblin' man  
>  You ain't ever gonna change  
> You gotta gypsy soul to blame  
> And you were born for leavin'**
> 
> ~ _Colder Weather_ by the Zac Brown Band

The letters came in a large box sent by Aimi Shimada. In it were gifts for everyone at the Barracks (including Sombra, who seemed honestly surprised to be included but shyly pleased) and a note apologizing for the late arrival.

There was also a large envelope fat with labeled letters, one for everyone.

Jesse’s made reference to his father’s wisdom he had shared with her and he smiled. At the very bottom of the page was a small note in a different hand thanking him for his kindness to his sons and wife. It was signed Shimada Kichirou.

“Huh,” he said out loud and tucked the letter back in its envelope.

“What was it?” Hanzo asked curiously as he thumbed open the seal of his own envelope.

Jesse obligingly held his letter out and let Hanzo lean against him while he read it, running a hand through his loose hair.

“Nice of him,” Hanzo said hesitantly, handing it back and flipping open his own letter as someone began pounding on the door. Hana, leaning back against Hanzo’s legs, groaned. Aimi and Kichirou had given her, Bastian, and Lucio handheld games and she was annoyed to be dragged out of it.

“I’ll get it,” Jesse said, also groaning as he began untangling himself from the pair of them.

Hanzo grunted distractedly and Jesse was distracted from his odd tone when more knocks sounded from their front door. He was nearly punched in the face by Genji, who continued to pound desperately at the door with a wide-eyed kind of desperation.

“ _ Is Hanzo here? _ ” Genji snapped and pushed him aside without waiting for a response. Jesse grunted when the knob punched into his lower back and stood there rubbing it while Genji ran into the living room.

“Why, yes Genji, he is,” he said sarcastically to himself as Rishi rounded the corner. “You looking for Hanzo too?” Rishi looked pained and unusually brusque for him, pushed past Jesse. Shaking his head, he closed the door and carefully approached the living area.

Hana was more alert now, her game tucked into the pocket of the pink hoodie Kichirou Shimada had sent her.  _ Ok? _ He signed at her when she looked at him.

_ Not good _ , Hana replied. There was a deadly sort of silence while the brothers faced off and like Jesse, Rishi seemed to have decided against getting involved just yet.

“Is there something wrong, Genji?” Hanzo asked, enunciating each word in a way that told how angry he was.

His younger brother scowled. “I see you got mother’s letter.”

“And father’s,” Hanzo said. “He is glad to know I’m well considering he hadn’t heard from me in many years.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Genji said. “If you left Japan when you were six.”

“Seven,” Hanzo corrected. “But I hadn’t heard from him since middle school when as a child we would trade letters regularly.”

It all fell into place with a jarring kind of suddenness. Jesse felt his stomach sink; from Rishi and Hana’s expressions, they felt similarly.

“He abandoned us,” Genji said tightly.

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. “ _ We _ abandoned  _ him _ ,” he snapped. “And you were so bitter and selfish as a child that you blamed him.”

“ _ He was yakuza _ ,” Genji snarled back.

Jesse and Rishi moved quickly and grabbed their respective boyfriends around the waist and hauled on them to keep them apart. It was tough work and Jesse prayed he wasn’t hurting Hanzo as he tried to keep himself between him and Genji. Rishi was in a similar form, pressed against his back from shoulder to hips.

Wobbling on her prosthetics, Hana darted past them and out the door as they began arguing in Japanese. She returned a few minutes later with Zarya and Rein who had a much easier time than Rishi and Jesse in pulling the brothers apart. They were separated like unruly children and as soon as Genji was not in the way, Hanzo slammed the door to his and Jesse’s bedroom shut.

Feeling lost, Jesse scratched the back of his neck and regarded the closed door before turning to Genji. “You wouldn’t understand,” Genji sneered when he saw Jesse looking at him.

“Naw,” Jesse drawled mockingly, deliberately thickening his accent. “Ah reckon the dumb old farmer wouldn’t know nothin’.” Genji and Rishi flinched. “If you’re not gonna do anythin’ useful, you may as well get out.”

Genji looked away. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said again. Jesse didn’t want to hope that it was to convince himself.

“Then git,” he replied stonily. He bit back against saying something else, something meaner like  _ you ruined an entire day I could have spent with them  _ and yanked open the refrigerator with more force than was necessary. It rattled on its short legs, making one of Hanzo’s weird silk boxes resting on top of it rock precariously.

Rishi cautiously approached the kitchen. He looked as helpless as Jesse felt; beyond him, Genji was nowhere to be seen and Jesse hoped he had left even though he hadn’t heard the door open or close. Immediately he was remorseful but gritted his teeth and stuck his head in the fridge.

“They have a…very complex relationship,” Rishi said.

Jesse grunted. “’Ppreciate it but that ain’t for you t’ be tellin’ me.”

“No,” Rishi agreed. “But it’s the start of necessary discourse.” He peeked up at him over the door of the fridge. Rishi shrugged as if he had said something. “My brother, Mandhav, was a humanitarian.”

“Still ain’t for you to tell me.” Jesse sighed and stood up straight, tipping his head to stare unseeingly up at the ceiling. “It still  _ isn’t _ for you to tell me.”

Rishi crept carefully into the kitchen. “We ruined your day,” he said softly. “Their whole…relationship isn’t for me to say, you’re absolutely correct, but…it’s something that  _ I _ need to say. From someone that also loves a Shimada.”

Jesse flinched and closed the door. The box on the top of the fridge wobbled again and Jesse reached up to gently push it back into place.

“Hanzo was close with their father,” Rishi said quietly. “While Genji was close with their mother. When Aimi decided to leave, Genji was maybe two years old; he wouldn’t have remembered their father but growing up, he’s all Hanzo would talk about. It’s hard to love someone that wasn’t there, that didn’t exist in your mind except in some kind of vague concept across the ocean.”

There was another story there that Jesse didn’t ask about. He sighed and sat down on the cool tile of the kitchen, pressing his back against the cabinets as he stretched his long legs out. Rishi sat next to him. “Everyone’s got daddy issues,” he said ruefully. “I get  _ that _ .”

“Well,” Rishi said slowly. “Hanzo was always the favored son by his father but only because Genji was relatively…unknown by him. He was so young when Aimi left with them that Kichirou really didn’t know him. So Genji grew up knowing his mother but not his father while he was all that Hanzo talked about growing up.”

“He was jealous,” Jesse muttered tiredly.

“Of course,” Rishi agreed. “But more…their childhood wasn’t easy. In his mind, though he hasn’t admitted so to me, I think he believes that Aimi left because Kichirou drove her away, because he is cruel or any other issues that may cause one spouse to leave another. It was probably easy for him, growing up, to blame anything that befell them on a faceless man that had driven them from their home.”

It made a depressing sort of sense and Jesse looked down. “So when he learned that Hanzo was on speaking terms with him…”

“He grew jealous and bitter,” Rishi finished with a sad nod that was nearly unseen by Jesse. “I don’t know how long it lasted or when it started, but shortly after I moved in with them I noticed that Genji was  _ always _ home for the mail or that he was the one that checked and sorted the mail. It wasn’t something that you notice that often because it was something rather innocuous.”

“He’d sort out the junk mail…and Hanzo’s mail.”

Rishi nodded. “When I asked Hanzo, he said that since he was old enough to work, he and Aimi would be out until late and Genji was always the first one home after school.”

“We were arguing,” Genji’s disembodied voice said from the other side of the counter. Not seeing the other man’s head leaning over them, he figured that he was sitting similarly to them with his back to the wall. He sounded tired, his voice thick as if he had been crying; maybe he still was. “It was something stupid. I always walked Hanzo to work and that day…I don’t even know what it was about but we really got into it and when I went home I just saw a letter from Kichirou. It wasn’t like I even threw it away…that first one I threw it in the stove until it was nothing more than a handful of ashes.”

It was easy to piece the rest of it out. Genji, out of guilt or lingering anger, said nothing about it. How or why he continued Jesse would never know – didn’t _ want _ to know because the damage was done. Perhaps he felt like he needed to do so because he had already laid down the groundwork for it.

“I was still angry but worse…I just took away Hanzo’s father – because I never thought of him as  _ mine _ – and it…it felt so good,” Genji continued. “He could finally know what it was like. Not that…not that our mother was  _ bad _ , she was always caring and considerate and worked hard for us…but I wanted him to know what it felt like to be forgotten. The son that wasn’t…that didn’t exist.”

Jesse sighed explosively and Rishi patted his arm consolingly. “I knew he did it,” Rishi said quietly. “I figured out about a year into living together because there were a few packages of supplies I’d ordered that would mysteriously go missing. When I finally asked Genji he just…looked so guilty that I started paying more attention.”

“Aimi said that she’d been in contact with him,” Jesse said. “How?”

Rishi shrugged. “I wouldn’t touch her mail,” Genji said quietly. He sounded even more choked up and Rishi shifted uncomfortably next to Jesse. With an apologetic look he walked around the small wall dividing them. “I was mad at  _ Hanzo _ and  _ Kichirou _ , not her.”

They were quiet for a long time. Jesse thought that Genji was crying, if the wet sounds of his breathing were any clue. He lost track of time after that in the heavy silence of the room he shared with Hanzo.

He wondered rather morbidly if this was the silence that Hanzo felt while waiting for him to wake up from his medically-induced coma when he lost his arm.

Eventually he heard the door open and Hanzo’s voice very quietly ask Genji and Rishi to leave. They didn’t say anything, simply standing and walking out the front door though Rishi cast Jesse a sympathetic glance before he closed the door behind him.

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked and his voice was so soft that Jesse nearly didn’t hear him. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the awkward sensation of pins-and-needles in his butt as feeling came back, and walked carefully around the counter.

As soon as he was clear of the counter, his arms were full of Hanzo, who clutched a piece of paper in his hands. Gently Jesse lifted him and carried him to their bed, curling up with him over the covers since Hanzo always insisted on making the bed every morning.

They lay together like that for a while, their legs tangled together and Hanzo’s head pillowed on Jesse’s chest. It was far from something out of a romance novel or fairy tale: Hanzo’s eyes were red and swollen with tears, his mouth twisted from the realization of his brother’s betrayal. His nose was running but aside from a few halfhearted attempts to wipe it with his sleeve, leaving the very tip of his nose lightly flushed, neither of them made any real attempt to stop it. As Jesse quietly shushed him and pressed gentle kisses to any part of him that he could reach, Hanzo’s uneven breath slowly leveled out and his hands released their white-knuckled grip on Jesse’s shirt.

“I’m disgusting,” Hanzo muttered after what seemed like hours.

Jesse hummed. “I’m not sure I’d call you  _ disgusting _ , but  _ kinky _ most definitely.”

There was a moment of silence before Hanzo began to wheeze. Just as Jesse was becoming concerned, he began to laugh and tugged Jesse closer, mashing his face into his collarbone. “I love you.”

“Always, darlin’,” Jesse said and pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s forehead. When the man looked up, he pressed a gentle kiss to his nose. “Love you always.” To Jesse’s concern, the hesitant smile crumpled and Hanzo buried his face again. “Darlin’,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

Hanzo gripped him tighter, his strong fingers digging into the sensitive skin around Jesse’s neuroplate and he tried not to flinch, pressing soothing kisses to Hanzo’s face and hair and tugging him closer. Feeling helpless and hating it, Jesse could do nothing more than to just hold him until he calmed down again, gently stroking his back and hair with his flesh hand as they had learned that the exposed joints of his prosthetic hand tended to eat hair if it was exposed to it.

What felt like hours later, Jesse found himself [ humming ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oouFE51HcqM) as Hanzo tucked himself more comfortably against his side. “What’s that song?”

With a soft smile, Jesse dug his fingertips gently into Hanzo’s scalp, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s crown. “Just a silly little thing,” he said. “The words are sad but the tune’s hopeful.”

Bit by bit Hanzo relaxed his grip, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when he saw the marks his nails and fingertips made in Jesse’s shirt and skin. Though there were dried fluids on his face from tears and snot, his smile was still radiant in Jesse’s eyes and he tipped Hanzo’s chin up for a proper kiss.

They clung to each other for a long time, neither having any desire to bring up what just happened. When he calmed down enough, Jesse ducked into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under warm water. It occurred to him suddenly how  _ involved _ he and Hanzo had become in such a short time.

Less than half a year ago they had been complete strangers and now their toothbrushes were crossed in a cup next to the sink and Hanzo’s towel was crumpled on the rack next to his. A small box held the kit Hanzo kept for his piercings and the times he felt like putting eyeliner on. Jesse’s brush, a scraggly thing that had seen better days butted up against Hanzo’s which had softer bristles for the shaved sides of his undercut.

In their bedroom – and it was  _ their _ bedroom, not just Jesse’s anymore – Hanzo had a corner where he kept some of his weights for when he stayed home from the gym and an entire dresser to himself, not to be confused with Jesse’s dresser which had been painted as a prank by Fareeha when he was fifteen with the piebald markings of a cow.

Shaking his head, Jesse turned off the tap and wrung out the washcloth. He kissed a smile back on Hanzo’s face and wiped away the dried tear tracks and the snot which made Hanzo make a face and take the cloth from him.

“I love you,” Hanzo said hesitantly, pressing the  [ sign ](http://lifeprint.com/asl101/images-signs/i_love_you.jpg) into Jesse’s chest insistently.

Smiling, Jesse leaned down and kissed him again. Noting that the kiss was significantly less salty than the ones before, Jesse swiped his tongue against Hanzo’s lips, begging for entrance. Hanzo yelped against his lips when Jesse twisted so that Hanzo was perched over his hips, looking down at Jesse through a screen of his loose hair. He tugged Hanzo down, wrapping his arms around Hanzo’s waist. “Love you always, darlin’.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” Hanzo breathed against his lips.

“Then I’ll say it to you every day,” Jesse promised.

It was unclear how long they lay like that, taking joy and comfort in the other’s presence. When their stomachs began to rumble, Jesse volunteered to make a quick trip to Base to bring back lunch if Hanzo wasn’t feeling up to it.

Genji asked how Hanzo was and Rishi asked with his eyes how  _ Jesse _ was doing and he just shrugged at both of them. He made them both a large plate, kissed Ana’s cheek, and went back to the Barracks.

Though he tried to hide it, Jesse knew that Hanzo had been looking at the letter from his father when he came back and he didn’t say anything about it as his boyfriend clearly wanted. Instead he made their lunches and served it in the living room where they sat on the couch with their shoulders and thighs touching.

“Are you curious?” Hanzo asked as they cleaned up.

“Of course,” Jesse replied. “But it’s not my business.”

Hanzo said nothing, moving to wrap his arms around Jesse’s waist. He pressed his face between Jesse’s shoulder blades and hugged him tight enough that Jesse was beginning to wonder if that was what it was like to wear a corset.

He wondered if that would amuse Hanzo to see and resolved – when this all blew over – to ask him later.

“I love you,” Hanzo said, muffled into the back of his shirt.

Jesse touched a soapy hand to the crossed knives on one of Hanzo’s tattooed forearms. “Love you always, darlin’.”

“What if I fall?” Hanzo asked abruptly.

“I won’t let you fall.”

Hanzo’s breath hitched and his arms squeezed Jesse tighter. “If I get scared?”

“I’ll hold you tighter,” Jesse breathed, rinsing his hands and attempting to turn around in Hanzo’s grip. When he was allowed, he lifted Hanzo up and placed him on the counter beside the sink. From the look on Hanzo’s face, he had been placed in a small puddle of water.

Before Jesse could move him again, Hanzo gripped him with arms and legs, pressing his forehead down into Jesse’s. He tilted his head into the gentle stroke of Jesse’s hands along the curve of his jaw. “I love you,” he repeated.

“Love you always, darlin’,” Jesse murmured as Hanzo kissed the inside of his wrist. He lifted Hanzo off the counter and meandered with him back to the couch where he lay down so that Hanzo was once more perched on his hips. “You cold?”

Hanzo shook his head but still tucked down against him, shaking slightly in his hold. “What if you woke up tomorrow and all of this was a dream?”

Though he was concerned, he bit back the questions and pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s forehead. “I’d look forward to the next night,” he said instead. “And hope that when I went to sleep I’d dream of this again.”

“Even if I wasn’t real?”

“I question it every day; you’re too perfect for this world, darlin’.” There were tears in Hanzo’s eyes again but he stopped asking and curled up against Jesse’s warmth.

Jesse wondered what the letter said, what written words had broken down his darling so badly.

 

* * *

“I was so close to being able to go on a food journey around the world,” Hanzo told Jesse later that afternoon as they lay tangled on the couch, watching something meaningless on TV. “I had been saving up years.”

Jesse hummed, running his fingers through Hanzo’s loose hair. “I remember you saying,” he rumbled drowsily. 

“When Genji and I found out...about Ha-Yun, mother, and Hana...I took all of those funds and put them into their recovery and medical bills.” Reaching down, Jesse adjusted his hold on Hanzo and didn’t say anything. Hanzo tucked his head closer into Jesse’s neck so that as he spoke his breath ghosted against Jesse’s skin. The bridge of his regal nose and the two not-quite-warm balls of the barbell in his skin pressed gently against the hinge of Jesse’s jaw. “Of course I did; without a thought. They...I love them. More than anything.”

Hanzo was shaking again and Jesse’s arms tightened, tugging him impossibly closer. “Of course you do,” he murmured into Hanzo’s hair, running his free hand against the short hairs at the nape of his neck soothingly. “They’re family.”

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed. “Part of me was bitter for it but I would never -  _ could  _ never - consider doing anything else. It’s more than just my duty to my mother, to Hana...you understand?” 

There was something vulnerable in his voice and Jesse turned the TV off and kissed the frown lines away - even temporarily - from Hanzo’s brows. “Of course I do, darlin’.” 

Hanzo’s breath hitched and his fingers dug like claws into Jesse’s shoulders. “I didn’t tell them...I didn’t want them to feel guilty about it.” Jesse could understand; the thought of Hanzo giving up his dream hurt something deep inside. “But...mother must have known because she told Kichirou.”

And there was another aspect to his convoluted story and a subconscious indication of what he thought of his father; Jesse was fascinated but it was something he obviously couldn’t voice, especially not then. 

“Is that what the letter was about?” Jesse asked as carefully as he could. 

Hanzo nodded against his neck and as close as they were, Jesse could feel Hanzo’s grimace. “He...he offered to pay for all of my expenses...on any trip...anywhere in the world...for as long as I wanted.”

Unsure, Jesse tugged away and looked down at Hanzo. “Why does that make you upset?”

“Because just when I thought my dream was over, it’s dangled in front of me again like a carrot on a stick!” Hanzo snapped. “Just when I was beginning to realize that I was  _ happy _ where I was and began thinking that perhaps I won’t find happiness in traveling around the world -  _ that I was happy here with you _ …”

Jesse brought him down for a gentle kiss when he trailed off in frustration. “Darlin’,” he murmured as he pulled back. There were tears in Hanzo’s eyes and he brushed them away gently. “I’d never ask you to give up your dream for little old me.” 

Hanzo’s breath hitched in a soft sob. “For the past few months... _ you _ have been my dream and I’ve never wanted to go anywhere.” In any other context, it would be terribly corny but Jesse knew that Hanzo meant every word of it.

Leaning up, Jesse pressed another kiss to Hanzo’s face that turned into a series of them: his brow, the tip of his nose, his lips. “Here or not, you are  _ my _ dream,” he murmured. “But I ain’t about to keep you from...something great. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Han; you should take it.”

“Do I mean so little to you that you can urge me off just like that?” Hanzo asked bitterly, his eyes tearing up again. “This isn’t just a little trip for a week.”

“Of  _ course _ not, darlin’,” Jesse told him immediately. “An  _ adventure _ takes time.” He tugged Hanzo’s jaw so their eyes met. “Han, since the day I saw you I knew I’d see your taillights more than I would ever sit in the car with you. You’re meant for greater things and will walk a path that I could never follow.” He squeezed Hanzo closer. His eyes filled; it was a truth he had long since accepted but it was still hard to get the words out, to express it to Hanzo without making it seem that he had expected nothing more from him than a quick lay. “I knew I was on borrowed time with you, baby, from the first day I saw you.” 

Hanzo cried again and Jesse tried to stay strong, to be the solid rock in the waves of Hanzo’s ambivalence but sometimes even rocks are worn away and reduced to nothing but pebbles. 

The next few days were excruciating. Hana knew something was up and that it had to do with Hanzo’s letter. She tried repeatedly to wheedle it out of both Hanzo and Jesse but neither of them would tell her. 

Somehow Bastian knew; perhaps living as he had for so long made the signs more visible. They were out in the greenhouses, preparing the plants for South Wind’s herb garden when he brought it up.

“Leave,” he said. 

“What are you talking about?” Jesse asked though he was fairly certain he knew. 

Bastian grunted. “‘Nzo,” he said, the closest he could easily get to saying Hanzo’s name. 

“I don’t know,” Jesse said after a long pause. “Ain’t my place to ask too much.” Bastian grunted derisively but didn’t say anything else. “Don’t be spreadin’ it, please.”

The other man snorted again. “How?” he asked dryly and they shared ragged smiles though they didn’t reach their eyes. 

Four days after he had gotten the letter, Hanzo curled up in bed with Jesse and said, “I can’t go; I can’t leave Hana behind with no one to take care of her.”

“Genji’d be a bad idea,” Jesse agreed. “What’s wrong with keeping her here?”

“I live here as well,” Hanzo pointed out impatiently. “It’s not fair of me.”

Jesse shrugged. “We wouldn’t mind,” he pointed out. “I’d be more than happy to keep an eye on her for you.”

He was given an exasperated look. “Legally?” Hanzo prodded. “What about that? What if something happens to me if I were to go?”

Rolling on his side, Jesse peered down at Hanzo. “Alright,” he said simply. “Do you want Hana to leave the farm?”

“No!” Hanzo said adamantly. 

“Then she can stay and I will make sure of it,” Jesse told him. “Ana will back me up. If something were to happen to you, is someone else able to adopt her? Legally?”

“What would happen in the interim?” Hanzo shot back. 

Jesse grunted. “Okay,” he said simply. “Marry me.” 

If it weren’t so serious a conversation, Hanzo’s sudden recoil would have been comical...almost. His voice was strangled. “ _ What? _ ”

“Marry me - we’ll go to the courthouse, sign a form, and should something happen, I would be within my legal rights to keep her here,” Jesse said simply. “I wasn’t lyin’, darlin; I love you both and I’d do anything for you. I’d love to have you as mine forever darlin’, but I know that will never happen. Even on paper, as a meaningless signature on a bureaucrat’s wet dream, I’d sign my life away to you and Hana if it meant it would give you peace of mind for her future.” 

Hanzo teared up again - he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, but Jesse was sure he could be forgiven given the nature of his thoughts. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I sign a paper, you sign a paper; we’re married and if something happens, Hana would go to me unless someone deems me unfit,” Jesse said tiredly. “She wouldn’t be lost to foster or in legal limbo. If Genji or Rishi want to take her in, or if she wants to go to Aimi, then she can.”

“You’d tie yourself to me on an insignificant ‘if’?” Hanzo asked in a choked voice. 

Jesse tilted his lover’s jaw up so their eyes met in the darkness of their shared room. “It’s not insignificant,” he protested quietly. “It’s an important question and something dear to your heart. I wasn’t lying before and I’m not lying now when I say that I love you to more than you’d ever know. It’s important to you so it’s important to me - that’s why I’m offering. I love you both. This is a trivial thing - something so small - that I can do for you to ease your burden...and I’d never look back.” 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the subject for the rest of the night but Hanzo clung tightly to him and Jesse knew he got his point across. They kissed like it was their first time; drew exploratory fingers up and down flesh that had been mapped out a hundred times before. Jesse whispered words of love to Hanzo ( _ I love you, I love you; te amo, te amo siempre cariño _ ) and Hanzo replied breathlessly in kind ( _ I love you; aishiteiru; itsumademo aishiteiru _ ). 

So began a trend. Hanzo would come up with a reason he couldn’t go and Jesse would help him get through it. 

Sex afterwards was optional. 

New Year’s came and passed. They once more made an enormous, elaborate feast for Watchpoint and celebrated privately amongst themselves. Just before midnight they climbed on the roof of the Barracks and counted down to the drop of the ball while in the common room everyone did the same. 

By unspoken agreement they didn’t talk about Hanzo leaving. 

In the frigid winter air they kissed at the stroke of midnight and pretended that the tears in their eyes were from the wind and snow. 

As it always did, life moved on.

A week into the new year, Genji visited for a few days, ostensibly to check up on the progress of building South Wind. Before the heaviest winter weather had settled in the builders had closed off the framework and now were working on the complex (to Jesse, at least) inner workings. 

“Why are you doing this?” Genji snapped after hunting down Jesse in one of the greenhouses. Perhaps unfairly, he spoke to Jesse as if they were alone and Bastian picked up on this, casting a disapproving look up at the chef.

“Here,” he reminded him rather tartly. 

“Sorry,” Genji said tiredly. “But…”

Bastian grunted in agreement. “Know,” he replied and went back to what he was doing. Perhaps because of his physical disability, Bastian was one of the best ones to prune and shape plants; now he was working on trimming and gently untangling the roots of a rootbound pot of lavender.

“What are you talking about?” Jesse asked, inspecting another plant with a critical eye. 

“Convincing him to go!” Genji snapped. “You’re supposed to convince him otherwise.” 

Jesse looked down at Bastian who shook his head ‘no’. “I’m not  _ supposed _ to do anything,” he told Genji, his confidence boosted by Bastian’s promise of silence. He thought of a faceless woman’s love of sunflowers in the unbearable heat of the desert day. “That’s the thing about...about loving someone. You  _ want _ to be selfish and chain them as close as possible to you but in the end their happiness wins over yours; you’re not  _ supposed _ to do anything because you already want to do it just to see them smile.”

There was something in Genji’s expression that Jesse couldn’t read. He busied himself with the plant in his hands. They were much simpler; they came and go with the seasons, with food and care or with negligence and grew in an understandable, defined pattern. Things like emotion and sentiment meant nothing to a plant; it relied on physical things but perhaps that’s why humans were “more”. 

“He’s a rambling man,” Jesse said at last. “I ain’t ever gonna ask him to change. He’s got a gypsy’s soul - I spotted it just about the first time I’d laid eyes on him. I was born to be left behind and he was born for leaving.” He laughed bitterly at the plant in his hands. To his shame he felt a hot tear trace a molten track down his nose; he watched the solitary drop get absorbed into the soil, watched the glimmer of moisture until it disappeared as it lovingly caressed a pale, spidery root that had been pressed against the wall of the pot. “Ain’t nothing I’d change about him or about...what’s happened between us. He’ll leave and I’ll remain.”

He thought again of soil whose moisture had been baked by the sun, of cracked pavement and a woman that tried to weave him a blanket that ended up lumpy and uneven and bleached by the sun where it lay in its strap loom when she had collapsed. He thought of seeds blown on the air, looking for a place to settle down and a knob of driftwood borne by tides and floods, always waiting for the next tug of inspiration to leave behind its temporary home. 

“You really love him, don’t you,” Genji said quietly. Despite the wording, it wasn’t a question. “Enough that you’d be willing to be miserable for him to be happy.” 

Jesse swallowed hard, fighting against the tears. His hands shook and Bastian reached over with his good hand to squeeze his knee. There was understanding in his eyes and a pain that he had never shared with anyone. “Always,” he said thickly.

When he looked up again, Genji was gone and it was just him and Bastian.  _ I understand, _ the man’s eyes said. 

“You’re a good friend,” Jesse said instead of asking about the cold-burning despair in Bastian’s eyes. 

“Try,” Bastian replied quietly and squeezed his knee again. “Hurts.”

Jesse swallowed. “A heart’s a heavy burden,” he agreed around more tears he refused to let fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can also be called "Why DC is late to work". 
> 
> I fell a little behind in updating since business picked up at work yesterday but I posted this anyway. I'm sorry if it sounds a little stilted as things like this aren't necessarily my forte. 
> 
> I also removed the number of chapters total in this story because one of the chapters I'm working on is currently hovering around 20 pages so I'm probably going to want to break that up...somehow. I may also reorder the chapters I'm working on and I don't know if I will add or remove any so there's that. 
> 
> As always, thank you to all that have read up to this point. I know it's a hot mess haha. Thank you also to all of those that have left kudos and comments. I get so excited when I leave work and see all of them in my inbox. 
> 
> ~DC


	20. Last Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hana frowned at him. _Do you not love him?_
> 
> He was sure he was missing something but replied, _Of course I love him and I love you. I want you to be happy._
> 
> _But you won’t be happy,_ she pointed out. _If he leaves forever._
> 
> _Jesse sipped at his mug of cocoa, the curled end of the cinnamon stick brushing against his lips. _It’s not about my happiness,_ he signed when he put down his mug. _That’s the thing about love.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last call, last chance  
> Last song, last dance  
> Sometimes you just don’t know when that’s gonna be  
>  **Hold me baby, give me a kiss  
>  Like tonight is all there is  
> Cause there’s a last time for everything**
> 
> Kissing goodbye on her porch and driving away  
> Introducing her as your fiancee  
> Getting woke up at 5 am to see if Santa came  
> There’s a last time for everything  
> ~ _Last Time for Everything_ by Brad Paisley

 

They got married without telling anyone but Bastian and Lucio, the only two who were sympathetic enough to keep it a secret and be willing to act as their witnesses. There was a bit of finagling that needed to be done for Bastian due to his injuries, but in the end he had his way.

It was only the half-exasperated half-pleading look Bastian sent them that kept anyone from saying anything when they learned his  [ full name ](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/166601903076/bonus-story-from-good-directions-bastian-and) . Though he knew it would never be spoken of, Jesse was burning with curiosity how the eldest son of one of the most well-known manufacturers of autonomous tanks came to be the man in front of him.

All in all, it was rather anticlimactic – the most interesting thing to happen was the toast of soda they shared at lunch: Lucio wasn’t sure what to say given the reasoning behind their marriage and Bastian had simply rolled his eyes (one a little slower than the other) and said “drink”.

Hanzo’s friend Mrs. Tang – who they drove into Philadelphia to see – got the rest of the paperwork going and once more used Bastian and Lucio as witnesses. She assured them she’d mail them the copies once everything was finalized and call them to let them know the status in two weeks’ time.

They leisurely made their way back. It was too early to see much of the Chinese New Year celebrations, much to their disappointment, but they saw some of the decorations and posters hanging and they took Bastian and Lucio’s picture beneath the  [ Friendship Gate ](http://www.visitphilly.com/music-art/philadelphia/the-china-gate/) before returning to the farm.

Hana was jealous that they got to go into Philly but was placated when Jesse promised to take all of them for Chinese New Year. She didn’t ask why they went but she gave Jesse a meaningful glance that he pretended not to notice.

That night in bed, Jesse called Hanzo “Mr. McCree” and laughing, Hanzo called him “Mr. Shimada”. Though none of them spoke of it, they made love like it was their honeymoon. Jesse sweetly kissed Hanzo’s ring finger and they both smiled, pretending that they didn’t see the tears in each others’ eyes.

The papers were returned and everything was finalized. Jesse insisted on speaking to Hana himself rather than have Hanzo do so; his husband (and wasn’t that a funny thing, even if it was for Hana’s benefit rather than their own) agreed reluctantly but added that  _ he _ should be the one to tell her that he was leaving.

Hana was perceptive for only being nine and knew something was wrong the next time she walked into their room. It was heartbreaking to see her calm acceptance that Hanzo was leaving indefinitely. Then Hanzo left the room and she looked nervous to be left with Jesse, as if afraid of what he was going to tell her.

She cried when he explained what they had done and hugged him.

He wasn’t sure if the tears were from Hanzo’s news and his was what finally broke the dam but he hugged her tight as she clung to his chest.

That night Hana snuck into their room and prodded Jesse awake. He carried her into their kitchen area and made her a cup of cocoa with cinnamon.

_ Scared _ , she signed though he hadn’t asked.

_ Why? Bad dream? _

Hana kicked the stumps of her legs, as she had taken her prosthetics off when he put her on the counter.  _ Hanzo’s leaving _ .

_ I’m scared too. We can be scared together. _

He was getting better at ASL and Hana signed so with a weak smile.  _ Why did you marry him? _

_ Because I love him and I wanted to make him happy. He was scared for you and this was the easiest solution. _

Hana frowned at him.  _ Do you not love him? _

He was sure he was missing something but replied,  _ Of course I love him and I love you. I want you to be happy. _

_ But you won’t be happy, _ she pointed out.  _ If he leaves forever. _

Jesse sipped at his mug of cocoa, the curled end of the cinnamon stick brushing against his lips.  _ It’s not about my happiness, _ he signed when he put down his mug.  _ That’s the thing about love. _

The girl mulled this over. She pressed  _ I-L-Y _ into his chest and he smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. Hana giggled when the whiskers of his beard brushed against her skin and he wiggled his head to tickle her more. She drank deeply from her mug when he released her.

_ I’m scared, _ Hana signed again.

_ Me too. _

Hanzo woke briefly when they climbed back into bed but obligingly arched his body to allow Hana to tuck herself between the two of them. They looped their arms over Hana’s smaller body and tangled their fingers together where they met. Hana pressed her face into Hanzo’s chest and Hanzo pressed his forehead to Jesse’s and they tangled their legs together with Hana’s stumps just barely brushing their thighs and everything was perfect.

Slowly Genji began taking over the South Wind project but he and Hanzo explained to Jesse that that would have been the case regardless as the elder Shimada brother wasn’t the best at interior design and the younger wasn’t the best at inspiring perfection in a raw building.

Rishi spent a lot of time with Jesse and Bastian, quiet and sympathetic. He surreptitiously gave Jesse a small wedding gift even though to his knowledge Rishi shouldn’t have known. The tattoo artist must have understood the nervous look on his face because he hurriedly assured Jesse (and Bastian) that Genji wasn’t aware of it.

As January gave way to February, Hanzo finished making plans with his father. Only by virtue of being in the same room when Hanzo excitedly shared his news with Genji and Rishi did Jesse know of the details. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t been, Hanzo wouldn’t have told him.

Unsurprisingly Shimada Kichirou had a few stipulations for his son or rather, just one: at the very beginning of his trip, he was to visit Kichirou in Japan for at least one day. He would visit between long trips of a month or so and give him weekly email updates. Hanzo described it as a “what I learned” report that Kichirou stipulated must also include an emotional aspect since to Hanzo food is art and art is emotion made tangible.

Hanzo would first go to Japan where he would stay for two weeks. He hadn’t been there since he was seven and there were many places he wanted to visit, some of which had very little to do with food. There were shrines and cemeteries and Aokigahara, where his aunt had gone and had not returned.

He lamented that he wouldn’t be there for  [ Children’s Day ](http://web-japan.org/kidsweb/explore/calendar/may/children.html) , which he vaguely remembered from when he was a child and wasn’t quite celebrated in the United States. The conversation had derailed for about a half hour as the brothers looked up the holiday and festivals to compare against Hanzo’s grainy memories of flying kites in the shape of fish and rice cakes stuffed with sweet red beans.

From there Hanzo would make the jump to China where he would explore the regional cuisines and the silk and tea farms. He told Genji that he had always had a fondness for seafood and the fish markets so he’d stick to the coast as much as possible.

Jesse tried not to be bitter or jealous as Hanzo described his plans. A part of him was angry that Hanzo had never seemed so happy with him but he knew it was just his pride that hurt. Hanzo was about to live his dream, something he had been working up to for years; he deserved to be happy.

It still hurt and Rishi cast sympathetic glances at him that went unnoticed by the brothers.

He lost track of Hanzo’s plans after that, sitting in a kind of numb silence. When Hanzo looked at him, he smiled and was relieved to see that he seemed to buy the lie of Jesse’s happiness.

That was good…he didn’t want Hanzo to know how torn up inside Jesse was.

“And how does Jesse feel about this?” Genji asked and he looked up. There were travel brochures and Hanzo’s visas spread out all over the table between them, a map marked up by a red pen that showed his proposed exploration from Japan into the steppes of Mongolia, then on into India and Nepal.

Jesse plastered a smile on his face when he saw the unsure look on Hanzo’s. “I’m happy for him,” he said. He was telling the truth; just not all of it.

There was something strange he couldn’t read in the brothers’ eyes. Then Hanzo smiled back and kissed him softly and  _ oh _ would he miss that and the mere thought of losing Hanzo sent jolts of pain shooting through his chest. It felt like someone had scooped out his chest cavity and left it empty and yawning.

When the last of Hanzo’s visas came in and as he was beginning to pack, he – with Jesse’s help, much to everyone’s amusement – made a dinner feast that mapped out his travels, something Jesse wouldn’t have known if Hanzo and Genji hadn’t been discussing it. There were mixed reviews when he made his formal announcement – everyone had known  _ something _ was up but save Hana, Bastian, Lucio, and Jesse, no one had really known  _ what _ .

Zarya and Fareeha were furious; Rein, Angela, and Ana looked back and forth between Jesse and Hanzo sympathetically. To hide the tension, Jack stood up and gave a toast; Gabe asked Jesse quietly in Spanish if this was some kind of joke and what would happen between them. Hana explained that she would be staying with Jesse but didn’t say what kind of legal maneuvering they had done to ensure she’d be fine.

No one asked, for which Jesse was grateful, but Ana’s lone eye was sad and knowing.

That night Jesse lay awake long after Hanzo had drifted off to sleep, mentally counting the days until Hanzo left. There was still something they still hadn’t talked about and Jesse was almost afraid to bring it up.

In the morning, before Hanzo left for his errands for the day – a few last-minute things he needed for his trips and all of the assorted shots and checkups he needed – they spoke about  _ them _ .

“We want different things,” Hanzo explained to Jesse, unable to look at him.

Jesse pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s knuckles. “As you wish.”

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Hanzo demanded, a brittle edge of hurt in his voice.

“No,” Jesse replied. “Because you’re right. And you have so much ahead of you right now. I’ve known from the moment I laid eyes on you that you’d walk a path that I could never follow.”

Hanzo teared up and looked away. Jesse tugged him into a hug. “I love you,” Hanzo murmured wetly against his collarbone.

“Always, darlin’,” Jesse murmured into his hair.

After Hanzo left Jesse went into town and spent the better part of the day looking for a goodbye gift. His heart twisted when he saw all the notices and sales for Valentine’s Day and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He bought stationary (and who knew fancy paper could be so  _ expensive? _ ) and a few envelopes. In the end he decided on something simple. A bucket of  _ Ofelias _ from the greenhouse and a whole roll of waxed paper were sacrificed to the cause. Jack, much more sympathetic than Zarya (and a closet romantic), helped him to press the flowers under bags of gravel.

Despite being given such short notice, they managed to turn out a large goodbye party for Hanzo a few days before Valentine’s Day. They held it at Watchpoint so the nurses and admin there could celebrate as well and some of the chefs and staff from North Wind made the trek up as well.

Jesse forced himself to keep smiling. Like at Aimi’s going-away party, Hana stuck by his side though it was for different reasons. Her smile was so convincing that if it wasn’t for the hand that gripped the back of his shirt, he wouldn’t have known she was upset.

_ I-L-Y _ , he pressed into her back and she smiled up at him.

By the end of the night Jesse was dancing with her on the impromptu dance floor, teaching her how to swing dance. It was difficult given the rigidity of her prosthetics compared to flesh and bone, but eventually she got it.

When Genji caught wind, he heckled him into teaching them how to line dance.  _ Surely a cowboy like you must know how to line dance? _

Well, he did but that was beside the point. In the end, he did it just to make Hanzo and Hana smile.

He drove the two of them home, Hanzo once more having a bit too much to drink but like his mother’s going-away party, this was understandable. Jesse tucked Hana into her own bed before climbing the stairs to his and Hanzo’s room.

For a long time he stood outside his door. Technically it was  _ his _ room but for the longest time it was his  _ and Hanzo’s _ ; he didn’t like the idea that it would just go back to being his room. That Hanzo’s weights would disappear, that the dresser that held his clothes would be empty, that the bathroom wouldn’t have signs of Hanzo’s cohabitation.

That Jesse’s bed would seem twice as large without another warm body to curl around.

He’d have to teach himself how to sleep in the middle of the bed again since he had gotten so used to being at Hanzo’s side. Waking up, he’d have to get used to cold spots on either side of him, as there would be no one to warm the sheets. In the event of a nightmare there would be no one to run their fingers sleepily through his hair until he fell asleep again.

All told he’d known Hanzo for only eight months or so and yet it seemed like he had taken root so quickly in Jesse’s life that for him to suddenly leave…he wasn’t sure how he’d hold up. His life, in many ways, seemed to revolve around Hanzo now. He choked back a sob and opened the door.

Now was not the time.

Hanzo was nearly asleep when Jesse walked into their bedroom but stirred when Jesse began getting ready for bed. “Mr. Shimada,” he slurred drunkenly.

Turning, Jesse forced himself to smile down at the man. He was splayed out diagonally across their bed, his hair undone and spread around his head artfully. “Mr. Shimada,” he said, leaning over Hanzo to press a kiss.

“No,” Hanzo muttered against his lips. “We should hyphenate.”

Jesse hummed. “Hanzo McCree-Shimada?”

With a drunken hand, Hanzo reached up and tugged at the coarse hairs of Jesse’s beard. “I like the sound of that.”

“I do too,” Jesse said and hoped that Hanzo didn’t hear the hitch in his voice. Sometimes pretending hurt more than knowing it would never happen.

Hanzo smiled up at him and tugged him to hover over him. His hands were clumsy as they pawed at Jesse’s shoulders, chest, and waist and their kiss was messier in his inebriation. “John Jesse McCree-Shimada,” he said and giggled drunkenly. “Will you marry me?”

“We already are, darlin’,” Jesse reminded him softly, twisting them both so that Hanzo was perched on his hips instead. He ran his hands up and down Hanzo’s naturally hairless legs but kept his touches chaste.

The other man made a wounded sound but let Jesse tug him down for a soothing kiss. “In another life maybe we would,” Hanzo continued as he pulled away, candid in his inebriation. “Maybe it’d be you and me and Hana. And South Wind.”

A part of Jesse’s heart broke but to be fair, it was already pretty cracked. He gripped Hanzo’s hips tightly, pressing his forehead against Hanzo’s.

“After work I’d get to come back home to you,” Hanzo whispered, caging him in with this arms. “In the morning you’d be the first thing I see.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Jesse whispered back.

Hanzo sighed and Jesse could smell the tang of alcohol on his breath – it served as a reminder to watch his words and he swallowed hard against what wanted to escape. The words clawed at the inside of his mouth and throat, wild and feral as any animal that wanted to be free.

It took everything in him to keep them behind the bars of his teeth.

Drunkenly Hanzo pressed kisses to his face. “I love you.”

“Love you always, darlin’,” Jesse replied automatically though no less sincere.

Hanzo pushed himself upward into a seated position and Jesse’s hands automatically rose to his waist to brace him as he wobbled drunkenly. “Why don’t you show me?” he asked and wiggled his hips.

“You’re drunk, darlin’,” Jesse pointed out, a little amused despite himself.

The other man whined. “I want…”

“What do you want, darlin’?” Jesse asked when he trailed off.

Hanzo gripped Jesse’s hands but didn’t try to pull them off. He traced down Jesse’s forearms – one flesh, one metal – to his elbows. In the darkness of their room his tattoos looked like lace as they traced down his arms, the colors in them catching and holding the light.

He looked radiant, but he always did to Jesse.

“I want to pretend that I’ll have this forever,” Hanzo whispered and a silver streak of a tear slid like mercury down his cheek.

Jesse’s heart, dry and brittle, cracked again. He tugged Hanzo down for a soft kiss and rolled them so they were lying on their sides, their legs tangled together. Despite Hanzo’s protests he pulled away slightly to take off his prosthetic and to draw the blankets over the two of them before rejoining Hanzo on the bed.

“Did I make the right choice?” Hanzo wondered against Jesse’s chest. His hands were cold where they tucked up under the hem of Jesse’s shirt but they didn’t do more than slide chastely across his back.

Jesse pressed a kiss into his forehead and didn’t answer.

He woke up a few hours later to find Hanzo sitting up, his head held in his hands. “Darlin’?” he asked and ran a gentle finger of Hanzo’s elbow. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately he had his arms full of the other man who pressed his face into his chest and sobbed. He was whispering something and Jesse leaned down slightly to hear what it was. It was his name, whispered over and over again.

Gently he tugged Hanzo closer, running the fingers of his good hand through Hanzo’s messy hair. “Darlin’, did you have a bad dream?”

“No,” Hanzo said immediately in a choked voice. He didn’t elaborate.

Jesse kissed his forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“We lived in a house down the street,” Hanzo said after a long pause.

“That sounded like a nice dream,” Jesse murmured.

Hanzo made a broken sound into his chest and clutched him closer. “I wanted it,” he breathed.  “I wanted it  _ so bad _ .”

With a heavy sigh, Jesse pressed gentle kisses to his forehead. “That sounds lovely.”

“There was a garden out back,” Hanzo breathed between sobs. “And you and I cooked dinner and Hana would help us. Bastian and Lucio lived there too – the three of them had the entire first floor and we had the second.”

Eventually Hanzo’s sobs faded into deep breaths as he fell back asleep. Jesse laid awake, staring at the ceiling.

They didn’t talk about it the next morning but from the looks they exchanged, neither of them had forgotten it.

Jesse volunteered to drive Hanzo to the airport despite him insisting that he could just call a cab. But Hanzo didn’t fight it too hard and no one commented on it. Unsurprisingly, Hana wanted to come along as well despite the early hour; Bastian didn’t want to go along and Jesse thought it was because he didn’t want the hassle of having his chair be dragged around, but Lucio volunteered to go as well.

Most said their goodbyes the night before and Lucio pulled Jesse aside to let him know that he’d take care of waking Hana up and getting her ready. Zarya and Fareeha gave Hanzo stiff hugs and Jesse sympathetic looks but they were sincere when they said that they’d miss him. Ana’s good eye was streaming with tears and Gabe looked constipated, the expression he usually wore when he was Feeling Things and didn’t know what to do. Jack pressed something into his hands when Hanzo wasn’t looking with a nod and Jesse smiled weakly at him. 

The drive to the airport was mostly silent save for the muted directions from Jesse’s phone. Lucio was awake, Jesse could tell by the faint glow in the backseat and the gentle bobbing of the man’s head as he listened to music, but Hana was fast asleep, twisted in her seat so that her head rested on Lucio’s arm. 

Hanzo held Jesse’s hand the entire time and his grip tightened when Jesse pulled into the short-term lot to park. Wordlessly they all got out and Jesse helped Hanzo haul his bags through the slush and snow into the airport; Lucio supported Hana as they hobbled their way after Hanzo and Jesse, gamely keeping up. 

They were likewise silent while Hanzo checked in at the Japan Air kiosk and checked his bags. 

It wasn’t until Hanzo was standing in front of the line for security that anyone said anything. Hana cried and hugged him tightly but didn’t beg him to stay. Really, she didn’t say much of anything except “I’ll miss you”. She clung to him for a long time before releasing and walking back. Lucio gave him a short hug and a firm shake of the hand before drawing back to comfort Hana. That just left Hanzo and Jesse.

“This is it,” Hanzo whispered. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen as if he had been crying; Jesse knew for a fact that he had. 

“Yeah,” Jesse mumbled through the lump in his throat.

Hanzo hugged him fiercely, his fingers digging into his back and sides hard enough to leave bruises. They stood like that for a long time, just holding each other tightly as if afraid to let go. 

As if that would be the last time they saw each other. 

Jesse was certain that it was.

“ [ Last song, last dance ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWkoquUvD98) ,” Jesse murmured into Hanzo’s hair. “You’re gonna be late, darlin’.” 

“Hold me,” Hanzo demanded when he tried to pull away. “Give me a kiss.”

Jesse was helpless to obey and bent slightly as Hanzo stood on his toes. They clung to each other as if they would drown otherwise. Jesse knew for a fact that he would drown in tears and alcohol as soon as he was able to because this, losing Hanzo, was worse than losing his arm. For all the time he had known Hanzo, less than a year, he had become such an important cornerstone of Jesse’s life that he was afraid that he’d be lost without this amazing, beautiful,  _ wonderful _ man in his arms. 

He swallowed the words that tried to claw their way out of his throat though they burned at his tongue.

This wasn’t about him. 

“I love you,” Hanzo said brokenly. 

“Love you always, darlin’,” Jesse replied, just as broken. Hot tears drew molten tracks down his cheeks but instead of wiping them away he lifted his thumb to clean Hanzo’s face. “Chin up, darlin’,” he murmured. “You’ve got a world of adventure ahead of you.”

Hanzo shook his head and clung tighter to Jesse. Over his shoulder, Jesse could see the TSA agents watching them impassively; it was quiet enough so early in the morning in the airport that there was no one in line and most likely no one to keep their attention. 

“I’d rather be here,” Hanzo said stubbornly. “I change my mind.” 

Jesse used his knuckle to lift Hanzo’s head. “I love you,” he told him intensely. “More than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved. This is your dream and has been longer than I’ve been around. I won’t hold you back from it. I’m just a nobody but you have the opportunity to be  _ more _ than just that and you need to take it.” 

“I love you,” Hanzo whispered, clinging even tighter to him. As he pulled away, Jesse slipped the box Jack had given him into the pouch of his hoodie, unnoticed. Hurriedly he grabbed his bag and ran to the security checkpoint as if afraid that waiting another moment would make him change his mind. 

It probably would. 

“Love you always, darlin’,” Jesse murmured as he watched Hanzo leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is also a small blurb on my  tumblr about Bastian and Efi. It doesn't talk a whole lot about Bastian's name (which is linked in the story) but it does discuss it a little more than is here. 
> 
> I swear this will make me late to work again but I got in a fight with my mom last night so I needed to fill the void by posting something. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone that leaves comments and kudos and to all of you that have stuck around for this hot mess of a story. 
> 
> ~DC


	21. Blue Ain't Your Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman hummed in agreement, sipping her tea. “I’m old, Sebastian,” she said abruptly, with a surprising amount of exhaustion. “I’ve seen a lot; done a lot. Perhaps it’s too much to just ask for them to be happy?”
> 
> “Meh,” Bastian said and whistled thoughtfully through his teeth. “Time,” he said at last.
> 
> “I can be patient,” Ana replied. “I was a sniper after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the chances are  
> You’re sitting her in this bar  
> ‘Cause he ain’t gonna treat you right  
> Well, it’s probably not my place  
> But I’m gonna say it anyway  
>  **‘Cause you look like  
>  You haven’t felt the fire  
> Had a little fun  
> Hadn’t had a smile in a little while**  
> Baby
> 
> Blue looks good on the sky  
> Looks good on that neon buzzin’ on the wall  
> But darling, it don’t match your eyes
> 
> ~ _Blue Ain’t Your Color_ by Keith Urban

Before Hana, Bastian hadn’t  _ always _ been alone. Granted, there were a lot of gaps in his memory as a result of his accident, but he could still remember family dinners, of his father resplendent in a pressed suit and his mother looking like she belonged on the red carpet at some gala for some obscure cause that she took a fleeting interest in. 

He remembered Ginny and her gap-toothed smile, how she used to wear feathers in her hair like some hipster. He remembered how her skin smelled like coconuts and her hair like strawberries and how her bright green eyeshadow  _ should _ have seemed gaudy but matched her just fine. How she had a love for purple lipstick that should have clashed with her spring green and pearlescent shadows around her eyes but somehow only looked endearing on her.

Mostly - simply for the sake of being a more recent memory than those he had of Ginny’s infectious laugh or the small bird tattoo she had between her fingers that would fly when she fluttered her fingers - he remembered a tiny little girl and her giant nurse visiting him every day she was well enough to. 

So Bastian wasn’t a stranger to being left behind whether the participants were willing or not. He was no stranger to grief, having helped many patients and their families cope with it over the ten years (or so anyone could guess) of him being at Watchpoint. 

He saw its signs - had seen them since New Years and the untimely letter from Shimada Sojiro, for that is what Aimi once admitted was her husband’s true name - and had been monitoring it carefully. Lucio saw it too - Bastian knew because he saw the other man cast him furtive glances. 

As always, Lucio would take his lead on this, so Bastian organized their forces and set up a game plan. 

Lucio distracted Hana - an easy feat due to the girl’s not-quite-crush on him - while Bastian spoke to Jesse. He waited for the perfect moment - an hour after lunch so everyone had already wandered back to their posts or were well distracted. 

It had been years since he had worn his prosthetics, the memory of little hands drawing in crayon and permanent marker on the greaves of the legs and the vambraces on his arm being too much to deal with most days. The prosthetics also required assistance, as he only had two fingers and a thumb on one hand and he lacked the stability to brace the arm to properly attach it - that meant that Lucio needed to help him and it made the remains of his teeth grit that he had to ask such a thing. 

You’d think after ten years a cripple he’d be used to it. 

Once Lucio had it attached (and Bastian tried not to remember small hands closing over his metal wrist, helping him don the small prosthetic fingers that fit on a glove over his left hand or fiddling with the gentle clasp of the rubber-lined connection to his right arm) he was able to fasten his legs and stand. 

It was disorienting to not be sitting down, to view the world from two or more feet higher than he was used to. But his discomfort was second, now; he needed to find Jesse. 

Unsurprisingly Jesse was in Greenhouse 2, where he had a small corner for his sunflowers.  _ Ofelias _ , he had once called them when he was very drunk; named after his mother. 

Jesse looked up in surprise, unable to help it and Bastian couldn’t fault him because he so rarely walked around on two legs. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a tip of his imaginary hat. Dark clumps of dirt fell from his fingertips and his smile was wide though it lacked its usual cheer. “What brings you ‘round here?”

Though he appeared to go back to what he was doing, Bastian knew that he was carefully not-quite-watching Bastian out of the corner of his eye if only to make sure that he wouldn’t fall as he picked his way carefully over the lip of the doorway. 

“Talk,” Bastian told him easily. 

Jesse smiled again but his heart wasn’t into it. His heart, of course, was overseas; adventuring. 

“Sad,” Bastian said after a brief pause to consider his words. And wasn’t  _ that _ the hardest part? Being crippled in three out of four limbs (and missing fingers of his fourth) and unable to speak except in very simple words. Condensing a buzzing hive of complex thoughts to the tiniest trickles like a drop from a pipette. 

He had a brief memory of Ginny holding a baby squirrel, carefully feeding it with a pipette. He wondered what happened to the squirrel, having long since giving up wondering about Ginny herself. 

“Why are you sad?” Jesse asked, deliberately misunderstanding the question. “Is everything okay?” 

Bastian snorted inelegantly and slipped on long latex gloves over the exposed joints of his prosthetics. Following Jesse’s lead and having been through this process before, Bastian took a shallow pan to catch falling dirt before it could be wasted, a small set of handheld shears, and one of the little plastic pots that Jesse used to germinate his sunflowers over the winter months. 

For a moment he peered at Jesse, not bothering to hide that he was watching the man himself and not the motions his hands went through. They were automatic, mechanical, something Jesse had done every winter since he had arrived on Jack’s Farm when his parents died. Bastian was more interested in the play of emotions in his eyes, read in the skin around them and his lips. 

Jesse had a good poker face, but grief, like wind or water, had a way of breaking down even the strongest of walls. 

It was hard to not hate Hanzo for leaving, but Bastian knew something of hate and by now knew how to work around it. But how could anyone  _ not _ hate Hanzo, who seemed to have dropped Jesse as soon as it was convenient to chase a dream?

_ I knew it _ , Jesse had said when they had first brought it up, when the pain was still brittle for the man. His eyes had seemed perpetually red-rimmed though Bastian had never seen him shed a tear; he knew from his own personal experience that tears were best hidden behind doors.  _ I always did; I let him go. It was his dream and I’d be a selfish git if I asked him to stay when it was right there for him to just take. _

Everyone had argued…everyone but Bastian and Lucio. They had shared looks between the moving bodies of others as they argued, tried to raise Jesse’s spirits. Ana only put forward a token protest; had only looked sad.

From then on, Bastian had seen the change in Jesse. It was to be expected; after all, it was in Jesse’s nature to please others and his own mourning of a love lost to wanderlust took backseat to that. Jesse’s smiles came back but his eyes no longer crinkled and the lines they formed around his lips weren’t as deep. His eyes didn’t hold the same mirth, looked more like glass than the rich earth-tones they had been. But he moved through the motions so Bastian couldn’t quite fault him.

Still, it was something that needed to be addressed and no one was quite as stubborn as Bastian, nor as patient.

Pursing his lips to show he wasn’t amused, Bastian punctuated the expression with a whistle between the gap in his front teeth. “Miss,” he said after a moment of serious deliberation.

“Missing Watchpoint?”

_ Patience _ . Bastian carefully squeezed the sides of the plastic bucket, encouraging the mess of dirt and roots to slide out into his other palm. It was rootbound after spending so much time stuck in the same pot. 

The irony - or perhaps was it allegory? - was not lost on Bastian. 

“Han,” he told Jesse and pinned him with a hard stare. “Know.”  _ Don’t hide from me _ , he tried to convey with his eyes.  _ I know you were left behind; I know how that feels _ .

Just like that, Jesse’s bravado deflated. “Bastian…”

“No,” Bastian forced out. “T-talk.” Ah, there it was, the bane of his existence: the dreaded stutter.

Jesse sighed. “No,” he said.

“Y-y-yes,” Bastian returned. “F-f-frie-end.”

Scowling, Jesse nearly dropped the plant cradled in his hands, snipping at the tangled roots with more force than was necessary. “You gonna hate on him too?” he asked tightly. “Tell me I should just get over him because clearly he didn’t lo-… _ care _ about me if he dropped me the way he did?”

Bastian grunted in the negative, but said “no,” out loud anyway. He peered up at Jesse. The feelings of others hadn’t factored into his expectations of Jesse’s low mood, but in hindsight it made sense as Jesse was very receptive to this. Still, it wasn’t so far off that he wasn’t entirely unprepared to deal with it. “D-dream,” he added.

“I  _ know _ , that’s  _ why _ ,” he told Bastian almost angrily through gritted teeth. “I  _ told _ him to go –  _ encouraged _ him – but now it’s his fault for leaving, not mine.”

This wasn’t news to Bastian, as days before Hanzo had left they had spoken about it. Hanzo had been just as broken up about leaving Jesse as Jesse was heartbroken now; more than once he tried to convince himself through Bastian that he should give up the dream and stay with Jesse. But it wasn’t his place to tell Jesse any of this, so he said nothing; not that he could easily explain it to him without the keyboard and speaker Lucio rigged for him, anyway.

“Sad,” he said instead. “Talk?”

“I tried,” Jesse said tiredly, staring down with unseeing eyes at the plant still cradled gently in his hand despite his earlier distress. “But no matter what I say, he’s always the bad guy.”

Bastian pursed his lips, not for the first time frustrated at his limited ability to speak. He awkwardly leaned over the narrow table to pat Jesse’s wrist with his mostly-whole hand. “I kn-kn-know,” he said.

“It doesn’t make me miss him less, though,” Jesse added in a thick voice, hanging his head lower. 

“Sad,” Bastian repeated. His jaw was becoming stiff and he grunted, sounding more animalistic than it should have with a piece of his tongue missing. “Help.”

Jesse chuckled wetly, hesitantly patting Bastian’s hand. “You’re a good friend,” he said.

“All,” Bastian corrected. “Help.” 

“I know they are,” he said. “It just sucks, you know?”

Bastian nodded, wiggling his jaw thoughtfully. It was more than he’d spoken in a very long time and it was such a novel experience, even as annoying as it was to condense his complex thoughts into a simple monosyllabic sentence. Perhaps next time if Jesse needed a stern talking-to, he’d take something he could type with so it would be faster and he could express more.

His physical therapist before Pums  _ had _ teased him once that he’d miss the speech boards one day.

“Call?” he asked tentatively. “Text?”

Jesse immediately shook his head. “No international coverage,” he said reluctantly. “And I’ve tried, just to say ‘hi’ or things that made me think of him – like that time Ana and Genji tried to have that  _ Chopped _ cook-off in Base.”

So reminded, they both winced. No one talked about the  _ Chopped _ Incident or its aftermath except in hushed whispers. Some of the volunteers refused to go in Base for meals anymore, so their friends had to bring plates of food out to the veranda.

“He hasn’t responded,” Jesse finished awkwardly. “I think he’s just…ignoring me. But I don’t know if that’s just…you know, me automatically thinking the worst.”

Bastian hummed thoughtfully. While he had his number, Hanzo had very rarely texted Bastian as there was very little for the two of them to say to each other. Most of their one-on-one interactions had, after all, been them both sitting in quiet solitude with hot cups of tea. He figured it was prudent to not tell Jesse that while Hanzo had been in what Bastian assumed was Japan, he had received a series of pictures: walls of boxed teas stamped with gold and black characters; rolling hills cut by a small road and dotted with workers in sloped straw hats; and a beautiful glass teapot on an electric burner filled with green-gold tea, a series of small flowers and leaves chained together in lieu of an infuser or teabag.

“Space,” he suggested instead. “O-ver.” Then he winced at the implications if Jesse took it the wrong way.

A car roared down the road, sounding far too loud for such a tiny thing. The sound reached them even hidden in the greenhouse. “Someone’s overcompensating,” Jesse joked weakly.

“Ugh.”

“You think he’s giving me space?” Jesse asked hesitantly. “So I…get over him?”

_ When phrased like that _ , Bastian wanted to say.  _ It sounds  _ terrible. “Meh,” he said, the closest he could easily get to saying  _ maybe _ . From the wobble of his head, Jesse understood him.

“Why?” Jesse asked plaintively.

Bastian hummed. It was something else he and Hanzo had discussed before he was going to leave. They had both gone out to the livestock portion of the farm to visit the goats for this talk. Hog didn’t speak much and he was too distracted by his own work to listen in on them. Once in awhile they’d see his head pop up from somewhere to make sure they hadn’t killed themselves but his gaze had never lingered long.

_ He doesn’t know when he’ll be back long-term, _ Bastian wanted to say.  _ He just wants you to be happy, even if it’s at the expense of his own future happiness _ . But not only could he not say this, but he  _ shouldn’t _ as it was in confidence between him and Hanzo – pretty much the only silver lining that Bastian could think of for his inability to speak with any ease.  _ He loves you too much to be able to be with you –  _ without you – _ long-distance _ .

“Love,” Bastian ultimately decided on saying.

Jesse stiffened. “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said in a thick, watery voice.

“Hmm,” Bastian replied.  _ Love doesn’t make sense _ . He thought again, as he usually did, of Ginny and her infectious smile. He used to tease her for the feathers in her hair but still went out with her on hikes on his family’s estate to help her find more. She used to crook and wiggle her finger to make the bird tattoo there “fly” and when he was distracted by it, she would have it swoop down and tap him on the nose.

He didn’t remember what happened to her – what happened to  _ them _ – but perhaps it was for the best. It had been young love, the kind of love that people who didn’t yet know the way the world worked had; when they thought that their love would last forever and that nothing bad could ever happen.

Jesse gave a wet chuckle and his shoulders shook as he let his head hang on his neck. Bastian very carefully didn’t look up, knowing that Jesse probably didn’t want to see him crying. He fiddled absently with the rootbound mess resting innocuously in his hands. “But love never does, does it?”

Thinking again of Ginny – he remembers the sensation of her long fingers carding through his hair, the purplish lipstick she favored and her mismatched green eyeshadow, the smell of coconut on her soft skin and strawberries tangled in her short hair. A lifetime away a ghost of his memory said in her raspy voice,  _ you’re my last bastion of sanity, Seb; I love you, I love you, I love you _ .

“Nope,” Bastian agreed.

* * *

After Jesse’s talk with Bastian, things didn’t immediately get better, but life started to bleed back into his eyes and an old mother couldn’t ask for much more. Ana sipped her tea with Bastian on the veranda, staring out into the sea of empty fields. Ahead of them loomed the new South Wind restaurant, framed by workers and their vehicles as they continued to work on the building.

“I wanted to thank you,” she told the man as he carefully cradled the teacup in his lap. “Whatever you said to him put him in better spirits.”

Bastian’s eyes flicked to hers. Though his speech was slow and his voice thick and heavy, his eyes were sharp and he was as quick to smile as Jesse, even if his scars made it crooked. “Eh,” he said. He carefully wiggled the remaining fingers of his complete arm through the handle of the mug and lifted it to his lips.

“No,” Ana replied as if he had said more. To her, a single of Bastian’s stilted sentences may as well have been a novella. “But neither of us expected anything to magically happen.” Bastian grunted in agreement, the noise partially muffled by the mug of tea pressed to his lips.

“Good,” he said after a long sip.

Ana smiled. “Hanzo sent it back,” she admitted. “Rishi snuck it over.”

“Ah,” Bastian said, his eyes sad.

“Yeah,” Ana agreed. “I have a note about the tea farms – he included a box and letter for you, with some orange peels as well, but I haven’t been able to safely sneak it over to you.”

Bastian snorted. “Steal,” he teased.

“Never,” Ana promised though her good eye twinkled with good humor. “But if I hide it with my stash people are far less likely to steal it.”

Her companion chuckled thickly. “True,” he conceded.

“I’ll label it until I can get it to you,” Ana assured him. They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea and watching the early summer crops wave in the breeze. “It’s hard not to think of Hanzo as the bad guy in this situation,” she said at last. “I understand he’s not, that it was mutual and all, but it’s hard not to feel so defensive around Jesse.”

“Yes,” Bastian agreed. His jaw still ached from his discussion with Jesse and he let the hot tea soothe the overworked muscles and aching bones. “Talk.”

Ana hummed. “I didn’t have that…reassurance,” she said, struggling for the word for a moment. “But I had grown to know Hanzo in the time he spent here – when he wasn’t attached by the hips or lips to Jesse and they weren’t over at Watchpoint – and I knew that he is unfailingly loyal once you’ve earned his respect.” She sighed wistfully. “And I know Jesse – everyone’s happiness is worth more than his own.”

“Sad,” Bastian murmured. “Peas.”

The woman hummed in agreement, sipping her tea. “I’m old, Sebastian,” she said abruptly, with a surprising amount of exhaustion. “I’ve seen a lot; done a lot. Perhaps it’s too much to just ask for them to be happy?”

“Meh,” Bastian said and whistled thoughtfully through his teeth. “Time,” he said at last.

“I can be patient,” Ana replied. “I  _ was _ a sniper after all.”

Bastian’s smile was crooked but his eyes were warm, pleased. He sipped at the mug of tea in his hands. “Good,” he said again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how this will turn out in the grand scheme of things, but it was something I had been thinking of including since I began writing the A Plot arc. There is only so much you can do to convey grief through a singular point of view...sometimes you think that you're fooling everyone but it turns out you're not and everyone can see how badly it affects you. 
> 
> Grief and loneliness are shared, even if you're not aware of it. 
> 
> Hopefully this time I didn't ruin anyone's makeup...especially not before work. (Hopefully this didn't ruin anyone's makeup at all, really.)
> 
> As always, a sincere thank-you to all of those who have stuck around for this hot mess. Thank you also to everyone that has left comments and kudos. It does wonders to spur me to finish this.
> 
> ~DC


	22. What Hurts the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning,” she called to him if only to get him to cease his sad shuffling. “A beautiful day, is it not?”
> 
> It was early, so early that the sun had not yet risen from beneath the horizon and Jesse’s face was cast into shadow by the ghosts of his heart and the soft lights from the cottage.
> 
> “Good morning, Orisa,” he said at last. Even his voice was empty.
> 
> “I was about to take my morning tea,” Orisa said, cocking her head to the side. “I would like it if you would join me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What hurts the most was being so close  
> And having so much to say  
> And watching you walk away  
> And never knowing what could have been  
> And not seeing that loving you  
> Is what I was trying to do
> 
> It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go   
> But I’m doing it  
> It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone  
>  **Still harder getting up, getting dressed, living with this regret  
>  But I know if I could do it over  
> I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart  
> That I left unspoken**
> 
> ~ _What Hurts the Most_ by Rascal Flatts

As she did most days, Orisa woke before the sun with a quiet suddenness. She could not even find solace in her dreams, nor in the hazy half-reality in between where she could pretend that the reason for her wakefulness was because of a little girl that had snuck into her room and threw herself on her nurse. 

“ _ Don’t be silly, _ ” she muttered to herself, careful to remain quiet. Her roommates slept like the dead, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to chance them hearing her early-morning musings. 

Years on the same worn cot meant that Orisa knew how to keep it from squeaking as she got out of bed despite her large frame, and she used this to her advantage as she grabbed a handful of scrubs - blue, purple, and silver, today - and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready.

She decided against painting her face just yet and after tucking her pajamas into the laundry chute, set about making tea. In the kitchen, she could hear Torbjörn’s even, rattling snores and used it as a metronome to hum a quiet Yoruba lullabye. Kayode must have been sleeping on his side - or wasn’t sleeping in the cottage - or he’d be contributing to the melody as well. 

The weather was warming up - more so than was typical for the average for an April in New Jersey, not that Orisa was really complaining - so she opted to take her morning tea outside. 

Still humming, she ducked outside and somehow wasn’t surprised to find Jesse McCree shuffling through the yard like an American zombie: a human shell with no heart or soul inside his clay-formed body. 

“Good morning,” she called to him if only to get him to cease his sad shuffling. “A beautiful day, is it not?” 

It was early, so early that the sun had not yet risen from beneath the horizon and Jesse’s face was cast into shadow by the ghosts of his heart and the soft lights from the cottage. 

“Good morning, Orisa,” he said at last. Even his voice was empty.

“I was about to take my morning tea,” Orisa said, cocking her head to the side. “I would like it if you would join me.” 

Jesse wavered like a fern in the wind before bowing to her whim. Gesturing for him to wait, she fetched him a mug and hefting hers and his in one hand and the heavy kettle in the other, she ducked back outside. Polite as ever, Jesse took some of her burden and at her direction once more, placed it on the granite bench beneath the oak tree outside of the cottage. 

“A lovely oak tree,” he said absently, looking up. With the warming of the weather and the coming of spring, it had begun to sprout tiny green shoots.

Orisa hummed, pouring out their tea. “That tree is over a hundred years old,” she told him, knowing that he’d appreciate its history in a way that many others might not. “They say that it may have been there in some form since the very beginning of Watchpoint.” 

She watched him as he carefully skirted around the granite bench to press his flesh hand against the rough bark. “That’s old.”

“Yes.  _ Quercus rubra _ .” 

Jesse blinked at her, perhaps surprised that she knew its scientific name. “Red oak?”

“Yes.”

The farmer looked back at the tree. She knew he found the plaque when he made an inquisitive noise. “A dedication plaque?” 

“Yes. It’s quite old. This isn’t the first time the tree has been dedicated, but that one is the most recent.” Orisa carefully set the kettle down on the bench and looked at Jesse. There was an odd look in his eyes as if he were beginning to understand something. 

He stepped back toward the bench and craned his head upwards. She leaned closer to point out the other plaques still dotting the bark or the harsh scars the nails and screws tore into the fissured trunk. 

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep I come out here,” Orisa found herself admitting. “Or when I feel too alone. The tree has always been here, has cast its shadow on many patients, many doctors, many mourners yet here she still stands and still grows.” 

Jesse was properly reverent as he came back around the back of the bench to sit down. She saw him frown at the inscription visible where she wasn’t sitting. “I didn’t realize there were memorial benches here,” he said as he hesitantly sat down.

“There are only two,” Orisa told him. “Here and in the graveyard.” 

“I didn’t realize there was a graveyard.”

Orisa glanced at him. “This was once a full working hospital,” she replied. “In the old days, or so I’ve been told, there were occasionally graveyards that served for the forgotten dead if they were not cremated.”

“That’s...disturbing I guess.” 

“Perhaps.” 

They sat quietly, sipping their tea as they watched the horizon turn pink. “If the grounds are in such bad shape,” Jesse said hesitantly. “Then the graveyard must be in worse. Can you show me where it is?” 

“After our tea,” Orisa told him tiredly.

The silence wasn’t really  _ comfortable _ but it wasn’t awkward. Orisa watched him, seeing the signs of depression and that aching loneliness in him. She knew what it felt like, to go through the motions of life as if your entire world hadn’t left. 

Still silent, they left their empty mugs on the bench and Orisa led Jesse around the edge of the cottage to the overgrown evergreens in the back. Once upon a time, a little girl had found the tiny gap in the trees where the gate was - or perhaps she had just been ducking in and out of the trees and found it that way. Her friend found her much later after everyone had grown worried by her disappearance but lo and behold she was fine and healthy and happy and sitting in a quiet corner of the graveyard without fear. 

Shaking her head to dispel the afterimages of the memory, Orisa tugged back the branches to reveal their rough-hewn gateway. “We try to trim it back every once in awhile,” she told Jesse as he peered curiously past her. “But we don’t always have much time or energy and most of these people have been forgotten anyway.”

“How sad,” Jesse murmured. 

“Satya gathered as much information as she could,” Orisa agreed as she surrendered her hold on the branches to Jesse’s prosthetic hand. “But a lot of the marked graves here are forgotten patients. A few of them still have visitors...visit _ or _ .”

Jesse looked around as he ducked through after her. “How sad,” he repeated.

The graveyard was just as it always was and, if Orisa was feeling particularly depressed, as it always would be. It was ringed by overgrown trees that shoved their leafy branches through the gaps in the fence as if reaching for the open land just beyond their reach. The dense tree cover - or so it appeared - made the field seem even emptier and bleaker in comparison. Their own kind of trees grew - these ones were stone shrubs in cracked slate, eroded marble, and mossy granite. Only a few were religiously maintained and even those bore the scars of time - and a distraught widow. 

But the graveyard she had seen a thousand times in a thousand different lights. More than once she had wished that she drank, that she may feel the cloud-like emptiness that Amélie professed to feel when she visited. 

Instead she watched Jesse. The pain was still there, just forcefully buried beneath the promise of a new task; anything to forget the feeling of being left behind. 

“Lotta work here,” Jesse said at last in the voice one unconsciously adopted in a graveyard: quiet, reverent, almost a whisper as if afraid of disturbing those who was already at eternal rest.

“I try to come and take care of them,” Orisa told him. “Satya too. We all try to chip in but sometimes it’s just too much.” 

Jesse nodded absently, already lost in thought.

She left him to it, moving to sit on the bench in the corner. 

For the next few mornings, she saw Jesse bright and early with armfuls of tools to treat the area. After widening the branches around the gate, Orisa and Jesse (and Kayode who had woken up from all of their noises as they struggled) wrestled Torbjörn’s woodchipper through the gate. They helped Jesse clear a corner of the graveyard where there had once been a small fountain with a spigot to water the small copper urns beside the gravestones and set up the gas-powered monstrosity. 

Throughout the day Orisa could occasionally hear the roar of the motor but it was a distant sound that was easily shrugged off. 

“Perhaps he should get grief counseling,” Torbjörn suggested in his usual well-meaning but indelicate way. 

Orisa shrugged and licked her spoon just to make Torbjörn roll his eyes. He knew better than to bring up  _ filmjölk _ though as Orisa would only bring up  _ skyr _ to torment him. “If he gets worse.” 

“He’s cleaning a  _ graveyard _ ,” the maintenance main said incredulously. 

Humming, Orisa dug into the small cup in her hands for more granola. Satya had a wonderful way with it and occasionally sprinkled quinoa and pomegranate seeds if their budget allowed for them. “And  _ you _ cleaned the body chute.”

“That’s just a myth,” Torbjörn dismissed. 

“And yet…” Mei teased. She was, as ever, a half-asleep lump in the corner of the lounge the staff had claimed as their own. Orisa pushed a bowl of fruit and granola toward her but her half-closed eyes didn’t pick up the motion and Orisa didn’t bother trying again. 

Grumbling, Torbjörn stomped away, his diminutive stature making it difficult to do so quickly. “I’ll apologize to him later,” Orisa told Mei before she could say anything.

“To Jesse or Torbjörn?” the nurse asked with a wide yawn. 

“Go back to sleep,” Orisa advised instead of answering and Mei mumbled to herself as she drifted back to sleep again. Brushing gentle fingers along the woman’s cheek, Orisa tucked the blanket and cushions more snugly around Mei and left the break room. 

The weekday cooks at Watchpoint greeted her absently before returning to their work. One of them helped her assemble a small basket of food and then she walked across the yard toward the forgotten gate. 

Even the trees here were beginning to look better. Jesse wasn’t a professional lawn worker or arborist but the trees seemed more put together without the hundred trails of wisping branches reaching in all directions. The gate was easier to find, the gap between trees widened to an amazing extent and Orisa very belatedly remembered that this was a  _ gate _ , not an ill-used game trail for an animal in the forest. It was meant for people and burdens of grief to pass through. 

She found Jesse at the central fountain, inspecting it critically. “If you intend to do a lot with that, you should ask Torbjörn to help you,” she said as she approached.

Jesse’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen as if he had been crying but he swiped at his cheeks with the backs of his hands as she approached so she didn’t ask. There was something fundamentally  _ wrong _ about seeing him so sad and it hurt something in her to see someone else grieving. 

“Lunch,” she said. “It’s nice enough out that I thought a picnic would be fitting.” 

If Jesse was suspicious of her motives, he said nothing about it. “I saw a bench up in the corner,” he said. “It’s newer and cleaner than the fountain. Maybe it’s better to eat there.” Orisa nodded and allowed him to take the basket from her as they walked back up the path. “I was thinking some,” he said as they walked. “You said that this graveyard was from the old days when Watchpoint was a hospital.” 

“That’s when it was started,” Orisa agreed and glanced at Jesse. “But I didn’t say that it hadn’t been used recently.” 

Jesse considered that as the topped the last little rise where the bench rested. “Lukas Lamb and Gérard La-croy-cks.”

“Lacroix,” Orisa corrected. “Yes, they were some of the most recent burials here. The marker next to them has a few...babies.”

She watched as Jesse gently set the basket down on the green granite bench. If he heard her, he gave no sign. “This is a nice little thing,” he said. “It looks newer than everything here, though.” 

“It is,” Orisa said faintly and found that she couldn’t bring herself closer to the bench. Not yet. 

Jesse looked at her oddly then down at the bench. “Do you think there’s any relation to the Oladeles?” he asked. “The ones that made the OR robots?”

His words were like keys that turned in the lock around her knees and Orisa tiredly sat down on the bench beside the picnic basket. “The very same,” she told him. “Efi found this place while playing hide-and-seek and this corner was her favorite place to sit when she could escape her doctors.” 

Orisa dug around in the basket and began laying out the sandwiches she had gotten from the kitchen staff as Jesse watched her thoughtfully. “You were her nurse,” he said, sitting so he straddled the backless bench. 

“Yes,” Orisa agreed. “I was.” 

They ate their lunch in quiet thought. She wondered what Jesse was thinking about and decided that she wasn’t sure she wanted to know in any case. “It must have been weird,” Jesse said abruptly. “Having an Oladele and a Metzen in the same hospital.” 

“They were friends,” Orisa told him. In her mind’s eye she could see Efi running down the edges of the fence, ducking in and out of the grasping branches of the pines. Bastian would wobble gamely along after her, still unsteady on his prosthetics and eventually the game would end when he was drenched in sweat and had to sit down. 

Orisa would usually have to come and fetch him because none of the other doctors or nurses, except perhaps for Kayode, were willing to do so. It was worth it to see the bright smile on Efi’s face as she bounced along next to them. 

“I’m sorry,” Jesse said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t,” Orisa agreed not unkindly. “Most don’t.” 

Jesse sighed. “Athena told me about the Forgotten,” he said carefully. “Was..Efi…?”

“No,” Orisa told him. “She was just a child with a terminal condition. As Watchpoint was beginning to lose its funding and sponsors, the Oladeles bought into their promise that they could cure Efi even though all of the best doctors around the country had already told them that she wasn’t going to make it.”

She didn’t need to continue as the memorial bench, inscribed with Efi’s name, was enough to tell Jesse the ending of that particular story. 

She was surprised when he carefully reached across the picnic basket to touch her shoulder with the back of his flesh fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

“No apology necessary,” she told him. 

Jesse looked away. “How old was she?”

“About Hana’s age,” Orisa said vaguely. “She’d be in her twenties, now. I’d guess about the same age as Lucio.” 

“You don’t know?” Jesse asked curiously.

“Of course I know,” Orisa said, a little sharper than she intended. She winced but Jesse didn’t seem to expect an apology. “But it’s easier to pretend that I do not know how much time has passed.” 

Jesse nodded. “My parents died,” he said abruptly. “I tell everyone that I don’t remember anything but...I remember more than I let on, at least.” 

They fell into silence for a while as they finished their picnic. Jesse gave a wobbly smile when he saw Orisa take out a small cup of yogurt. “Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed,” Orisa said as she ate, looking over the field filled with the forgotten - or almost-forgotten - dead. “Even after all these years sometimes I can still remember her waking me up in the mornings to go out and play and to visit her best friend in the hospital. Or rocking her to sleep after a nightmare. Some days it feels like she’s just about to pop out from around the corner and ask for a bowl of  _ skyr _ or ask to play hide-and-seek so she could get out of her lessons.” 

“It’s hard,” Jesse agreed with a heavy sigh. “Forcing a smile when I see Genji and Zen together and...I’m alone.  [ Still hard getting up ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcM9ElA1VHk) , getting dressed...living with knowing that he’s gone.”

“Not gone,” Orisa corrected gently. “Not forever.”

“It feels like it,” Jesse admitted. “Like I’ll never see him again.”

Orisa scraped the edge of the bowl as she thought. “You’re a pair of silly martyrs,” she said at last. “But you love each other so I have no doubt that everything will work out. Would you let him go again? If you could do it all over?”

The other man sighed heavily and picked at an imaginary fissure in the bench in front of him. “If I could do it all over...I would trade, give away all the words I saved in my heart that I left unspoken. It’d tell him everything that I didn’t have the courage to do. How much I’d miss him, how much I love him, how I’d wait for him until the sun went dark and beyond if that’s what he’d ask of me.” 

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because...I didn’t have much in my life that I wanted to do.” Jesse laughed but it wasn’t out of humor. “He...he had itemized lists. Not  _ really _ , but what he wanted was so much more than what I was...I lived in the  _ now _ but he lived in the  _ to be _ .” 

Orisa nodded to show that she understood. “Not always a bad thing...either of them.”

“No,” Jesse agreed. “But...I couldn’t rightly drag him back to my time. In the time I was just trying to soak up, appreciate every moment I had with him, he was already looking to the future. Thing about that...it’s always subject to change.” 

They both fell silent and stared out into the graveyard. Eventually Orisa had to go back to Watchpoint and Jesse helped her pack up the basket again and walked her, polite as any gentleman, to the gates. 

“Thank you,” he said abruptly as she was about to walk away. “For listening.” 

Orisa turned. “Losing Efi wasn’t the same as your ‘loss’ of Hanzo,” she told him after regarding him for a moment. “But I understand what it’s like when it feels like your whole world is gone. Please come to me if you need someone to talk to.”

The cowboy was beginning to look teary and Orisa looked away to give him his privacy. To her surprise, he wrapped flesh and mechanical arms around her waist. “Thank you,” he mumbled into the space between her scapulae and he shook minutely in muffled sobs. 

Gently Orisa patted his crossed arms with a large hand. In her mind’s eye she could see a little girl peeking out from behind the trees by the graveyard. The  _ abiku _ grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up. 

_ He needs you now _ , she thought she heard Efi say.

Orisa smiled softly.  _ No _ , she said, catching herself at the last minute from saying this out loud.  _ He needs me no more than you did; he needs someone else. _

The  _ abiku _ giggled and ducked away behind the tree.  _ I always needed you, Orisa, and you needed me _ .

“ [ Shine your eyes ](https://www.reddit.com/r/Overwatch/comments/61aye8/shine_your_eyes/) ,” Orisa said out loud, as much to Jesse as to the  _ abiku _ she thought she saw in the trees ringing the graveyard. “The world is not always as bad as it seems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: 
> 
> 1\. I've been posting a few things on my tumblr blog this weekend, including a few deleted chapters and bonus scenes. These include [ a deleted scene that takes place just after the last chapter](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/166678992481/good-directions-deleted-chapter-between-chapter) and a bonus chapter about Hana's birth. In the future, I may also post other blurbs, deleted scenes, and deleted chapters as I go along. 
> 
> 2\. If you want to know more about Efi's story, you can pop over to tumblr (again) to read about _abiku_ children and a little blurb about [Bastian and Efi's story](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/166601903076/bonus-story-from-good-directions-bastian-and).
> 
> 3\. I got a bit caught up with a few of the chapters this weekend (and got caught up in my own mind which, let me tell you, was Tons O Fun) so I'm not sure when I'll be posting another chapter since I have to be sure I have continuity between the ones I have...I have a bad habit now where I kind of popcorn around a few of the chapters since I have defined outlines and goals for each chapter so I need to be careful about making sure everything matches so I provide a good read for you guys :)
> 
> 4\. As always, thank you to everyone that has stuck around for this and to everyone that has left comments and kudos. 
> 
> ~DC


	23. Girl Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I call him Kichirou,” Aimi continued and a mittened hand reached up to tug at the curve of his jaw like all mothers do. “Because he is a lucky man.”
> 
> And suddenly the regal expression - almost lack of, really - disappeared from the man’s face and he smiled. It caused creases around his eyes and lips and nose to deepen and his eyes were so soft and kind.
> 
> “I am a lucky man,” he said simply in an accented voice and his eyes went warm and soft as Aimi wiggled herself into the shot with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a girl crush  
> Hate to admit it but  
> I got a heart rush  
> Ain’t slowing down  
> I got it real bad  
> Want everything she has  
> That smile and that midnight laugh  
> She’s giving you now
> 
> I want to taste her lips  
> Yeah, ‘cause they taste like you  
> I want to drown myself  
> In a bottle of her perfume  
> I want her long blonde hair  
> I want her magic touch  
>  **Yeah, ‘cause maybe then  
>  You’d want me just as much**  
> I got a girl crush  
> I got a girl crush
> 
> ~ _Girl Crush_ by Little Big Town

 

Slowly, things got better. 

It helped, in a sick and twisted sort of way, to know that other people suffered with him. Most days he spent at Watchpoint until he realized that perhaps he was being unfair to Hana. 

“Don’t be, mate,” Jamie advised when he cautiously brought it up. “Mako and I got it.” Hana was happy at Junkertown and Bastian and Lucio were happy doing whatever they did to fill their days, so Jesse went with a lighter heart back to Watchpoint. 

He continued to fix up the graveyard and with Satya’s advice - transferred through Orisa who admitted that Satya was very shy - began treating some of the headstones and trimming back the grass around them. Orisa joined him for lunch most days and sometimes Dr. Winston did as well and they all sat on Efi’s memorial bench or on the rim of the decorative fountain in the middle of the graveyard. 

There was something very visceral about having a picnic among the (mostly) forgotten dead and it brought a new perspective to his own mortality. He wondered what Hana’s mother thought in her last moments. Did she worry about her daughter? Did she feel pain? Did she think of Hanzo? Imagine his future with her? Or was her death immediate and painless, without those terrifying thoughts of the future to plague her last breaths?

Inevitably his thoughts went to Hana and to Hanzo. 

Thoughts of Hanzo still hurt but it was a healing kind of hurt. He could still see Hanzo around - could see him playing with the little shoots of the sunflowers in the greenhouse or carefully weighing the produce of the day before deciding what to make for dinner. When he drove down to make the supply runs to the workers at South Wind, something that was becoming less and less frequent the more time he spent at Watchpoint, he could imagine Hanzo walking like a king among the columns of his halls through the gaping skeleton of the building, inspecting this frame and that. At night he imagined that Hanzo climbed into bed with him and his heart ached. 

For as long as he had lived with Ana, he had his own bed. The times he had shared it with anyone, even Fareeha when either of them had a nightmare, hadn’t even made a dent compared to the nights he slept alone. And yet, after such a short time with Hanzo in his bed, he found himself wholly unused to sleeping in the middle of the bed again. 

Like he was expecting Hanzo to crawl into bed late, he slept on “his” side of the bed and let his flesh hand dangle into what would have been the space between them or would have been Hanzo’s waist if they had been pressed particularly close to each other. 

He got a body pillow and then another until the entire side of his bed was filled with stuffed animals and pillows. Some nights he could almost pretend it was another person he wrapped his flesh arm around and not just a pillow. 

Nearly four months after Hanzo left, a photo album came in the mail for Ana. It had been sent from Aimi and included a disk that held digital versions of the pictures. Despite the lump that rose in his throat and the worried glances he was given by his family, he joined them all in the common room of the Barracks to watch. 

Hana wordlessly curled in his lap and he tugged her closer so that her stumps hung over his knees. They gripped each other where no one could see.

Casting a sympathetic glance at them, Jack tucked the disk into the player. 

* * *

_ “Hello!” Aimi said brightly, waving. She stood in front of a large zen garden with a large red gazebo with a massive bronze bell looming in the distance behind her. Through the austere arches, the iconic Mount Fuji rose from a sea of grey mist and white snow. “Welcome to Hanamura!”  _

_ Aimi took a few steps forward and fiddled with the camera. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright with good health and she seemed happy.  _

_ I miss her _ , Hana signed discreetly to Jesse and he nodded in agreement. 

_ On the screen, Aimi succeeded in what she had wanted to accomplish and held the camera herself, turning it around to reveal an older man that stood in a neatly-pressed suit and a jacket that looked like it cost more than Jesse’s car. _

_ “This is Sojiro,” Aimi said on the screen while Hana bounced excitedly on Jesse’s lap. “My husband.”  _

_ Sojiro - which was strange, since Jesse was sure that he had a letter from  _ Kichirou _ \- at first looked nothing like the Shimada brothers but the longer he looked the more he could see of him. Genji had his light eyes, what little Jesse could see of them (and was that racist?). Most telling was the austere frown he wore that made Jesse’s heart clench because it reminded him so much of Hanzo. Sojiro’s hair was nearly entirely gray with only the barest hints of the midnight hue that Hanzo - and presumably Genji - had. _

The longer he stared at the man on video - Hanzo and Genji’s father - the more his heart hurt but Jesse couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away. Hana squeezed his hand reassuringly.

_ “I call him Kichirou,” Aimi continued and a mittened hand reached up to tug at the curve of his jaw like all mothers do. “Because he is a lucky man.” _

_ And suddenly the regal expression - almost lack of, really - disappeared from the man’s face and he smiled. It caused creases around his eyes and lips and nose to deepen and his eyes were so soft and kind. _

_ “I am a lucky man,” he said simply in an accented voice and his eyes went warm and soft as Aimi wiggled herself into the shot with him. _

Jesse had to look away. Hana did too and smiled up at him with wet eyes. He reached with his prosthetic hand for the tissues they kept on the end table of his couch and offered her the box. Taking it, she curled up into his chest and watched with one eye. 

Mercifully, the video had ended. Next were pictures:

An awkward family photo with Aimi to be the buffer between Hanzo and Sojiro. They looked like matching bookends with their severe expressions. Aimi was smiling. 

_ He looks sad, _ Hana signed into Jesse’s chest. 

_ Why?  _ Hana shrugged and didn’t answer. 

There was a picture of Hanzo looking very unamused from where he sat behind an almost comically massive bowl of ramen. A sign behind him had an alien with a disembodied hand and a big grin eating noodles. Aimi labeled it  _ Hanzo used to love Rikimaru’s ramen but was always afraid of its mascot! _

The next picture had a woman that looked to be about Hanzo’s age. Their heads were bent over a map that was spread out over the bed where they both sat. She sat on her knees, her hands folded primly on her thighs, a curtain of hair obscuring her face. 

Aimi’s helpful label appeared a moment later:  _ Hanzo and Hanami planning out their trip to see the  _ sakura  _ (cherry blossoms) in Okinawa _ .

Hana wiggled as Jesse gripped her tighter, unable to help his surprise at seeing Hanzo and the woman at the gates of what appeared to be some kind of temple. They were bundled in warm winter gear, a dusting of snow on their night-black hair, framed by bright red-lacquered wooden beams. Their arms were around the other’s waist and they both had luggage packed at their feet. 

The woman, apparently named Hanami, was pretty enough and wore pretty, fashionable clothes. Her hair was speckled with dots of white like stars and her cheeks were rosy with the cold as she smiled prettily at the camera. She leaned her head into Hanzo’s shoulder, closer than was typical. 

Something fell in the pit of Jesse’s stomach. 

_ Hanzo and Hanami about to leave for Okinawa _ . 

There were more pictures of that, but they lacked Aimi’s gentility in their notes. 

A picture of Hanami asleep on the train, one of the landscape racing by, one of Mount Fuji partially obscured by trees.  _ On the way to Okinawa _ , was the simple label. 

There was a picture of Hanzo speaking to someone with a more whimsical label,  _ they don’t understand his accent  _ ｡･ﾟ･(´∀`*)ﾟ･･｡

Jesse tapped Hana’s shoulder and signed in front of her,  _ what does that mean? _

_ Laughing _ , Hana replied. 

Another picture came up, a selfie of Hanzo and the girl beneath a shower of pale pink flowers. The label was simply  _ HANAMI!! _

There were more pictures: a castle surrounded by petals that fell like snow, of one or both of them in candid or posed pictures, of the food they had for a picnic. There was a picture of Hanzo holding his head in his hands and a shopkeeper looking confused. Someone had helpfully labelled this, _they still don’t understand his accent_ あはは!

This was some kind of special torture, Jesse was sure. Perhaps some kind of divine punishment for running away from home so long ago. He occupied himself with Hana as the pictures continued. The rest of the group oohed and aahed at appropriate times as the pictures moved on. 

There were pictures of hot springs, of high mountain vistas, of hiking, of beautiful hotel rooms, of a tour guide waving a flag on a small metal pole over her head as she stood on her toes to get the attention of the group. There were shrines and curving mountain paths and untouched fields covered in snow.

Most of all, there were pictures of food. There were markets lit up by neon lights that sold street food and costume-themed restaurants that Hanzo and Hanami both ate at. There were fish markets and restaurants and something like a farmer’s market or a massive produce stand. 

There was a picture of Hanami and Hanzo at an airport, clearly a surprise selfie if Hanzo’s unflattering expression was any indication. He had a slight smile in the next picture and their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists, their faces pressed close as Hanami took the picture. Both were labelled  _ on to Shanghai! _

Eventually Jesse couldn’t even see the sprawling vistas or silly pictures they were in. His attention narrowed down to Hanzo and the woman, Hanami. There were a lot of pictures with her tiny hand in his, her arm around his waist, her face pressed against his chest or cheek. 

He looked...happy. 

When it was over, he took Hana back to her room and got her settled. 

_ You’re sad _ , Hana observed, tugging on his shirt to get his attention.  _ Is it because of the woman? _

_ I’m happy he’s happy _ , Jesse signed back. Hana peered up at him with a frown but let it go. 

Later that night, Jesse lay awake on his bed, staring up at the featureless ceiling. How many times had he lay there, staring at the very same ceiling with Hanzo pillowed on his chest and tucked against the stump of his arm so that they could tangle the fingers of Hanzo’s left hand and his flesh hand over Jesse’s ribs?

The next day, Genji visited in a sour mood. Jesse helped to sneak Hana to Junkertown, their strained relationship not lost on him.

“Hey,” Jamie said as Hog took charge of Hana. “Y’ ‘ear from your mate?” 

His word choice left much to be desired but it wasn’t Jamie’s fault. Jesse bit back the tortured look but from Hog’s grunt and Hana’s worried look over her shoulder, it hadn’t worked. “No,” he told Jamie. “Why?” 

“Ah,” Jamie said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “I...uh...he sent us a bunch’a pictures. Got a box o’ alpaca yarn for Mako too. I just…” he looked away, something like a blush rising up on the sharp points of his cheekbones. “I didn’t know what kind’a terms you went and parted on.” 

Jesse looked away. “It’s...fine,” he said rather unconvincingly. “They weren’t on bad terms.”

To his surprise, Jamie put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, mate,” he said kindly. 

“I know,” Jesse murmured. “Thank you.” 

Jamie seemed to weigh his next words as carefully as he measured milk and rennet. “Are you...how did you part? Are you still...together?”

No one had been brave enough to ask him that, not even Hana.  _ We both want different things. _ “No,” he said simply.

He was regarded with amber eyes. “But you’re married,” he said. It wasn’t really a question and Jesse didn’t even want to know how he knew. He felt like a towel that had been too forcefully wrung out. 

“Just for Hana,” he said softly enough that Hana’s implants wouldn’t be able to pick it up. 

Jamie regarded him again but there was no judgment in his face or eyes. He could see the same kind of tired resignation on Jamie’s face as he did in the mirror every morning and not for the first time, he wondered. But Jamie was kind enough to ask and he would do the same for him. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, mate,” he repeated and reached out to squeeze Jesse’s shoulder softly. “And if you need someone t’ talk to’ y’ know me n’ Mako’re all ears.” 

But he  _ didn’t _ want to talk, at least not yet. There were just so many things for him to say - words that shouldn’t really be said except as a catharsis but were far too vitriolic to be given life. He thought of Hanzo’s  _ freedom _ \- locational, financial,  _ romantic _ \- and felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Thank you,” he murmured to Jamie who nodded and limped away, seeing it as the gentle dismissal that it was.

The thing about jealousy was that it was a poison - worse in some ways. It was like what you’d imagine as a poisoned dagger: a stab of pain, then the draining effects of a toxin that sucked everything away. 

All Jesse could think of was that woman - Hanami. How her long hair had fallen, how in some pictures it had been held away from her round face by pins designed to look like strings of flowers or pearls. In a few pictures she had a hat that almost reminded Jesse of the stetson Hana, Lucio, and Bastian had gotten him for Christmas. 

Jealousy ate away at him like he imagined the infection had eaten away at his arm. It sapped his strength, made him tired and prone to anger. Like the fever that had made him collapse, his irritation burned away at him until he had to excuse himself from dinner. 

He couldn’t even bear the sight of Genji or poor Rishi who truly meant no harm. Seeing them made him think of Hanzo...and thinking of Hanzo made him think of  _ that woman _ . 

Angela and Fareeha found him later with Zarya’s help to boost them higher on the roof than their small little balcony. They brought more blankets to protect themselves against the rough shingles of the roof. 

“I don’t know how you managed to get up here,” Fareeha complained good-naturedly. She yelped when Angela jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow as she climbed to lie down on the roof next to Jesse. “Why did we haul all these blankets up here if you’re just going to lie down without using them?” 

“If you’re just going to complain, you can go back inside,” Angela replied, curling on her side next to Jesse. “What’s wrong?” 

Jesse stared stubbornly up at the stars and eventually Angela rolled over to do the same. Grumbling, Fareeha crawled over them, looking much like the world’s largest and most awkward spider, and settled on Jesse’s other side. 

They lay like that for a while, invisible to the rest of the Farm (except for Ana but she was freakish like that). 

“It’s been awhile since we did this,” Fareeha said at last. “Just the three of us.”

Jesse flinched. The three of them (and sometimes Zarya) used to climb to the very top of the roof often. “Times change,” Angela said absently.

A lifetime ago their bickering would have been amusing. He would have laid back further, maybe pillowed his head on his palms and stared up at the sky. But a lifetime ago - really, less than a year - both hands were made of flesh and bone and muscle. 

Now their bickering reminded him of the life he had put on hold to be with Hanzo and guilt joined the void that jealously carved in his rib cage. 

Angela had always been perceptive and rolled on her side quickly, tapping him with a fingertip. “Friends and lovers are fleeting,” she told him kindly. “But family is forever.” 

“Until friends and lovers become family,” Fareeha muttered, much to Jesse’s surprise. She turned her head to look at him. “We hoped you’d be forever.” 

Swallowing hard, Jesse turned his head back to the stars. He remembered taking Hanzo on a picnic as promised into the middle of a field. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the feel of Hanzo’s arms pressed around his waist and the searing heat as his boyfriend pressed against him from shoulder to groin as they rode the ATV to an unused field in the Temple run. They had watched the stars less than a half hour before they had begun making out like horny teenagers. 

“Yeah,” he said and thought of the woman, Hanami, and the happy smiles on their faces and the arms around each other’s waists, and the tangled fingers held between them as they walked. “I thought so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come and yell at me on my [tumblr](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). (If the link doesn't work, which it doesn't seem to about 50% of the time and I've given up trying to fix it, my username is classywastelandbread)
> 
> As a warning, I don't know what the heck I'm doing half the time but I post a lot of extra blurbs, sneak-peeks, and small side stories there. There are also a few deleted chapters that I chose not to include here for whatever reason.
> 
> As always, thank you for all of you that have stuck me throughout this whole mess of a story. Thank you also to CookieCorners for the suggestion that Kichirou is Aimi's nickname for her husband! 
> 
> ~DC


	24. Different for Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You read my mind,” he said, signing as he spoke…or trying to since he had left his prosthesis in his room.
> 
> _Cry,_ Hana signed back. _Sorry. I miss him._
> 
> “Don’t apologize,” Jesse said, trying to sign with one hand as he walked around the couch. “May I join you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s different for girls when their hearts get broke  
> They can’t tape it back together with a whiskey and Coke  
> They don’t take someone home and act like it’s nothing  
> They can’t just switch it off when they feel something  
> A guy gets drunk with his friends and he might hook up  
> Fast forward through the pain, pushing back when the tears come on  
> But it’s different for girls
> 
> **It’s different for girls  
>  Nobody said it was fair  
> When love disappears, they can’t pretend it was never there.**
> 
> ~ _Different for Girls_ by Dierks Bentley

Jesse was just stepping out of the shower when he heard a shout and then a scream of “ _ Jesse! _ ”. A moment later, he heard footsteps and then pounding on his door. 

With a sigh, Jesse looped his towel around his waist to hide his nudity and moved toward the door. As he was about to open the door, Zarya joined whoever was pounding on his door and now it shook on its frame as she beat on the wood with a massive fist so that it rattled on the frame. 

“ _ JESSE! _ ” she roared and standing out of the way, Jesse tugged open the door. “ _ Jesse! _ ” she said again when she caught sight of him. Hana was tucked like a sack of flour under one massive arm; as ever, if she was bothered by the weight, she didn’t show it. “Put clothes on; are children present,” she said disgustedly, placing a massive hand over Hana’s entire face in lieu of just her eyes - as if  _ they _ hadn’t interrupted  _ him _ ! “And come downstairs! You need to see this!”

Jesse sighed again and closed the door; a  moment later, he could hear her lumbering away and not for the first time he wondered how much of her background was truly “Sih _ bee _ rian behr”. Grumbling to himself - all he had wanted was a cool shower and to go to bed early - he pulled on a pair of boxers and sweats. He left his chest bare - it wasn’t showing anything indecent that Hana or Lucio hadn’t seen before when he and Hanzo had taken them to the shore. 

Thinking of Hanzo sent a pang through his chest. It had been a half a year since he had left and though he seemed to be in contact with Ana, Bastian, and Hana, Hanzo had yet to reach back out to Jesse. 

He wondered what it said about him that he still hoped to answer a call and hear Hanzo’s voice on the other end of the line.

Still, he  _ missed _ Hanzo; the way his nose crinkled when Jesse kissed his cheek, the flush that would spread down his neck and chest when he whispered something lewd; the feel of hard muscle and soft flesh and the raised lines of the scars of his tattoos. And it wasn’t even for sex, though of course that was  _ amazing _ . He missed seeing Hanzo at the little farm stand or at the job site, of driving with him to Watchpoint to cook and upkeep the gardens, respectively; he missed curling up with him on the bed or couch, of feeling him tucked against his chest on the loveseat in the common areas. He missed the harem pile that Hana and Lucio and Hanzo made on him, tangling prosthetic and flesh limbs, using each other’s bodies as pillows or arm rests so that they were a tangled mess of humans.

He took a deep, shuddery breath as he was about to open the door. “ _ JESSE! _ ” Rein roared and he could feel the earthquake-like steps of the big German man. 

“Hold your horses!” Jesse yelled back. “I’m’a comin’.”

“Come on!” Hana yelled from where she was tangled with Lucio. Their assorted prostheses were scattered about them as if they had exploded off their amputated limbs.

He looked at the big TV they had gathered around. It was paused on the  _ Chopped _ logo, the meat cleaver halfway through its signature slice through the word. 

To his surprise, Genji and Rishi were there, curled up on the papasan chair like teenage lovers; Genji smiled brightly and waved, but there was a note of  _ something _ in his expression that made Jesse wary; Rishi looked up at him and gave a serene smile and a gentle wave that did nothing to soothe Jesse’s nerves. 

Impatient, Zarya wrapped a massive arm around his elbow and dragged him to his spot. “Go!” Bastian said impatiently, then added a quick “hi” to Jesse with a wave of his truncated arm. 

“You’ve  _ got _ to see this,” Angela said from the couch where she curled against the collective knot that was Rein and Ana. Their family had grown so much that conservation of space was a necessity for them all to spend time together like this but it still caused a pang in Jesse’s chest to see all the couples paired up. It made him wonder what it would be like if Hanzo were still around. 

_ But he’s not _ , he reminded himself.  _ He’s got a gypsy’s soul _ . 

With a sigh, he let Zarya push him down into a cushion and settled himself for a tiring episode of  _ Chopped _ . Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but there was something about it now that he knew of Hanzo’s past with the show. 

Rein squinted at the remote held in his hand and Ana mercifully pressed the play button when he couldn’t find it. On the screen, the show’s signature meat cleaver finished its swing; beneath the logo, the red words REDEMPTION appeared. 

As the host began introducing the contestants - or,  _ re _ introducing, Jesse supposed since it was a Redemption episode - Jesse looked around at the group gathered. Hana and Lucio were signing excitedly to each other, Bastian occasionally contributing his own awkward sign. Knowing them long enough, Jesse knew that Bastian could understand the two of them but lacking a hand and a few fingers and with issues with fine motor skills, he couldn’t always sign back...so the three of them had in some ways developed their own language that Bastian could participate in. He wasn’t sure what to think considering that the three of them kept cutting glances at him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the tangled mess of Ana, Rein, and Angela doing the same. Fareeha and Zarya, from where they sat in front of Ana and Rein, were whispering back and forth to each other in hushed voices; Genji and his boyfriend were staring very intently at the TV as well, speaking to each other in quiet tones in a language Jesse couldn’t understand. 

“ _ Hush! _ ” Zarya roared. 

“ _ And, last but not least, _ ” the host whose name Jesse could never remember despite how often he watched the show, began. And Jesse’s breath  _ woosh _ ed out of his lungs as the final contestant was introduced. “ _ Hanzo Shimada _ .” A warm hand wrapped around his and Jesse jumped. It was Rishi, who had leaned over to wrap a comforting hand over the back of Jesse’s where it was clenching the arm of the chair with a white-knuckled grip; Genji himself was staring intently at the screen and didn’t seem to notice that his boyfriend’s attention had been diverted to Jesse. 

From the TV, Hanzo began speaking. “ _ I am Hanzo Shimada, I am an executive chef and co-owner of North Winds with my brother Genji. _ ” The screen cut to a video of Hanzo in the  _ Chopped _ kitchen. “ _ The last time I participated in  _ Chopped _ , I was cut in the final round. It shook me, made me doubt myself and my skills no matter how difficult this competition is. _ ” It cut to a picture of an older picture of Hanzo, Genji, Aimi, a woman who Jesse could now recognize as Ha-Yun, and Hana as a chubby baby. 

Hearing a choked sound, Jesse turned and saw Hana holding a hand to her mouth. Reaching over to her, he squeezed her arm. She wiggled and he got up to lift her into his lap where she curled up with her head under his chin. He ignored the concerned glances that Bastian and Lucio shot him; he had already received The Codependence Talk from them and told himself that this was different. 

Jesse looked back at the TV as offscreen, Hanzo began speaking again. “ _ Earlier this spring, my mother, a family friend, and her daughter were in a car accident. My brother, Genji, and I didn’t find out until well after they had been taken to the hospital and by then we were unable to even say goodbye to Ha-Yun. _ ” There was another picture of a younger Hanzo, holding Hana-as-a-baby; her chubby little hand grabbed at his nose. Hana’s mother, Ha-Yun, smiled in the background. “ _ They had been friends of the family since we moved to Philadelphia so Ha-Yun’s death was...very rough. Not to mention her daughter, Hana, and my mother were hurt in the crash. My brother and I couldn’t just leave them there, so we had them transferred to Watchpoint Recovery Center. _ ” 

There was a collective intake of breath as the next picture faded in. It was a picture from Hanzo’s going-away party, the one held at Watchpoint so the patients and staff could participate. There was Bastian, Lucio without his braces but supporting himself with the handles of Bastian’s chair, Hana balancing herself on the other side of Bastian’s chair, Orisa hovering protectively over them; Satya, Mei, Athena, grumpy Torby, and Dr. Winston on the other side, the support staff standing slightly apart. But then there was the staff from Jack’s farm: Jack himself, Gabe, Sombra, Zarya, Ana, Fareeha, Rein, Angela, and at the very center, Genji, Hanzo, and reeled in by one of Hanzo’s tattooed arms around his waist, was Jesse. 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Jesse nearly missed the next thing Hanzo said. He could still feel the arm, like an iron bar around his waist and the searing warmth of Hanzo’s body against his side from shoulder to knee.

“ _ While we waited for Hana and our mother to recover, I...met someone. And he inspired me to not doubt myself. _ ” Then came a candid photo that Jesse hadn’t been expecting at all. It was Hanzo in the circle of Jesse’s arms, guiding his hands to chop something. Jesse’s head was tucked down over Hanzo’s shoulder, Hanzo’s head tipped back against Jesse’s. They were laughing in the Base kitchen. He looked at Ana and found her smiling knowingly at him even as Rein was crying without shame. 

“ _ He gave me confidence...so I’m coming back here to try again and if I win, I’m going to give back to Watchpoint Recovery Center. _ ”

Jesse swallowed hard and watched the chefs line up in front of their baskets. His eyes were only for Hanzo, though and he looks as if not a single day had passed since Jesse had last seen him. As his hands lift to the top of the basket in front of him, Jesse realized that one hand was covered in an opaque latex glove almost up to his elbow. 

“Did you know?” he whispered to Genji who shook his head. 

“I did,” Rishi said quietly and Genji looked at him, hurt. “Hanzo confided in me shortly before he agreed to be on the show.”

Zarya slammed a massive fist against the couch. “ _ Quiet! _ ” she roared. 

The three of them exchanged shaky smiles but turned to the TV in silence. They watched the appetizer round and all pretended not to hear the little hitch in Angela’s breath when Hanzo admitted in one of his mid-round interviews and again in front of the that the dish was inspired by Angie’s Diner. There was no ignoring the loud, hiccupping sob from Rein or the fond but exasperated shushing from Ana on his lap but no one, not even Zarya who took her cooking shows very seriously, had the heart to say anything.

At the end of the round, Hanzo was the first to be judged. Unlike the last time he had been on the show, he seemed calm, much more at ease. And thinking back to the clips of him cooking, the way he had thought through his dish, Hanzo was also calm. He had been far from the manic speed, the tension in his shoulders all but gone as he moved through the kitchen. 

“He seems much calmer,” Genji said wonderingly at the end of the round. 

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed absently. 

There were a few chortles, Angela’s a little choked up. “I wonder why,” Ana said dryly as the host ( _ Ted _ , Jesse finally remembered). “You have a very restful soul,  _ habibi _ .”

“Indeed,” Rishi said and patted his hand. 

They fell silent without prompting from Zarya as the judges began to speak. Hanzo accepted the words of the judges without batting an eye, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. One of the judges commented that he seemed a lot calmer - she had been on the panel when he had been there last and had remembered him - more, she had admitted without shame, she had remembered his tattoos, the fire in his eyes, and his  _ amazing _ biceps. 

Hanzo-on-TV had smiled, baring his teeth. “It’s just a different kind of fire now, chef,” he said. His thumb rubbed over the long latex glove and Rishi tapped the back of his wrist as if he hadn’t been watching Hanzo like a hawk the entire time. 

The host asked about the glove and Hanzo hesitated before peeling it off. Jesse wasn’t the only one that gasped audibly. “Oh good,” Rishi said and received stares from the majority of the room. “It looks like it healed nicely. I was worried when I saw the glove,” he added, deliberately misunderstanding the incredulous looks from the rest of the room. 

All of the judges and contestants ooh-ed and aah-ed at the red and gold sunflower on the back of Hanzo’s right hand. Jesse could recognize his own blocky script -  _ Love you always darling _ . 

“Gorgeous,” the host said. 

Hanzo swallowed visibly. “Yes,” he agreed. 

“Who is it for?” one of the judges asked. 

The room was suddenly quiet, even Rein’s gulping sobs quieting though Jesse was sure it was probably because Ana had done something to gag him. “His name is Jesse,” Hanzo said at last. “He was, is, and will always be my inspiration.” 

Jesse’s ears rang; he didn’t hear anything else the host or judges may have said in response or anything else that happened after that. The  _ Chopped _ logo flashed and they went to a commercial break. Though they had teased him for taking so long, it had gained them some time on the TiVo (or whatever they called it and Jesse realized that he didn’t even know that) that they could fast-forward through the commercials. Ana did this as Rein was still blubbering. 

They continued to watch. Hanzo made it to the next round; he made a  _ kofta _ and spaghetti dish inspired by Ana that won him praises from the judges. This time it was Ana made a strangled sound when Hanzo quietly told the judges about the scariest one-eyed woman he had ever met, the adopted mother of his Jesse. Rein wrapped his beefy arms around her and Angela and Fareeha leaned closer to her in quiet support. 

The judges loved this dish as well and he was able to go through to the final round. Hana squealed when he said in his mid-round interview that he was making  _ bungeoppang _ in honor of his niece and sort-of daughter. 

On TV, Hanzo smiled as he described his dishes. He wasn’t tense, hadn’t been in all three rounds. When he spoke, he smiled; when his dish was critiqued, he smiled.

At the very end, when they questioned him about his choices for his dish, his smile still remained and one of the judges commented on it. “All I can think about is how proud my family is of me. It doesn’t matter if I win or lose at this point.”

The common room erupted into cheers when Hanzo was announced as the winner; Rein immediately broke out his most recent batch of beers and they all celebrated as if Hanzo had been with them to do so. 

Seeing the look on her face, Jesse knew that Hana wasn’t entirely in the mood for much of a celebration even though she, like him, was incredibly proud of Hanzo. 

“Thanks, daddy-o,” she murmured as he carried her back to her room and sat with her until she fell asleep. 

 

* * *

Hours later Jesse lay in his nest of pillows and stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Quietly he made his way out the door, crept down the stairs, and moved to one of the smaller common rooms. If Zarya, who sometimes also had trouble sleeping, heard him she gave no sign of it but most likely she was out on the balcony reading. He followed the gentle glow of the fairy lights strung up where wall met ceiling, providing just enough light for him to see without blinding him or bothering any of the other inhabitants. He ducked around the corner and into the smallest common room and found, much to his surprise, that it was occupied.

Hana, unsurprisingly, didn’t hear his approach but maybe she sensed it because she looked up and gave a watery smile. The tracks of tears on her face shone in the light of the TV; the screen was frozen on the title card:  _ Chopped: Redemption _ .

“You read my mind,” he said, signing as he spoke…or trying to since he had left his prosthesis in his room.

_ Cry _ , Hana signed back.  _ Sorry. I miss him. _

“Don’t apologize,” Jesse said, trying to sign with one hand as he walked around the couch. “May I join you?”

Hana nodded and then climbed into his lap when he was settled.  _ Scared _ , she signed.  _ But I want to see him. _

Wrapping his stump arm – as much as he was able to – around her waist, Jesse leaned over for the remote. He held it loosely in his hand in case Hana objected. When she didn’t, he hit PLAY and then MUTE. There were already subtitles and Jesse wondered how long Hana had been sitting there, trying to gather the courage to watch it again.

_ I’m sad because I want to see him _ , Hana signed abruptly and Jesse almost missed it.  _ This is the most I can. On a screen, months after it was taken _ .

Thinking of the photo album, Jesse nodded, making a face.  _ I miss him _ .

_ Me too _ . Hana clenched a tiny fist in the worn fabric of Jesse’s night shirt and he was glad that he had chosen to put it on instead of walking around bare-chested. He was sure that Hana wouldn’t have appreciated his hugs as much though she hadn’t complained earlier.

Hana tucked her head into the curve of his neck and Jesse shifted when her breath tickled.

_ I’m happy for him _ , Hana signed.  _ He needed that. He needed  _ you. Jesse kissed Hana on the cheek and tickled her with his whiskers.  _ Did you love him? _

_ Yes, _ Jesse signed back immediately.  _ I still do _ .

Hana fiddled with the fingers of his flesh hand, then pressed her face into his chest as she debated how to answer.  _ I wish I could love someone as much as you love him. _

_ It hurts, _ Jesse replied, signing slowly so he knew that she understood his awkward one-handed signs. She squinted at his mouth instead and he spoke as he signed so she could read his lips and feel the rumble of his voice under her hands. “But it’s a good kind of hurt.”

_ How? _

Jesse thought carefully about how to answer. She was ten, far too young for falling in love, but he knew it was an important conversation to have. “When your heart breaks,” he said slowly. “You can’t tape it back together with a whiskey and Coke.” 

Not that he hadn’t tried. 

“You can’t take someone home and act like it’s nothing; you can’t just switch off your feelings. Some days you can’t just push through the pain and sometimes there’s only so far you can push back the tears.” Jesse choked and looked down into Hana’s dark eyes. There was understanding there that no child of ten should need to have. “I love him so much, darlin’, you wouldn’t even know. It’s like a part of me is missing but…going back and knowing what I do now, I don’t think I would change anything; I’d rather love him and lose him than never…”

Hana tucked herself against his chest and held him. 

The next morning Ana found them like that. She could guess the reason behind the tender way they curled around each other, but she still took a picture and emailed it to Aimi Shimada. 

Ana left them there, turning off all the lights and moving Jesse’s schedule around so he could sleep just a bit longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this is...slightly less depressing than the chapters I've posted recently? I don't know. 
> 
> In any case, I have a few deleted or extra chapters I've posted to my tumblr,[classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com). I will probably post more of them here on AO3 as well whenever I feel like getting around to it but for now they're all present on tumblr. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who is sticking with this hot mess. Thank you also to everyone who has left comments and kudos. 
> 
> ~DC


	25. Ask Me How I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now he wondered what Jesse would look like in the Jerusalem sun against the Wall. Would the sun freckles, barely visible unless he stood beneath the high noon sun, be visible? Would his brown hair shine red and gold like his _Ofelias_? More than once Hanzo had imagined him in front of stalls in the marketplace, begging with his eyes for some knick-knack or another; Hanami had rolled her eyes so much that he was sure she was dizzy because he bought everything that the mirage-Jesse had asked for and he was gathering quite a collection of silly, inane things for someone that would probably rather burn them than accept such a gift from someone that had spurned him beyond repair.
> 
> Someone who was _unworthy_ of his open-hearted affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go on and shake your head and tell me that I’m wrong  
> Say, “I’m just another fool and this is just another song”  
> But I know how you are ‘cause I know how I am  
> And I’d give anything to go back and try again
> 
> Cause one day you’ll meet the girl you swore you’d never find  
> Start feeling things you never felt and spending all your time  
> Trying to figure out how she got this hold on you  
> And when you start to fall, you’ll hold onto your pride  
> Start building up your walls and never let her inside  
> You’ll push her away ‘cause that’s all you know how to do  
>  **And then she’ll leave and you won’t beg her not to do  
>  Ask me how I know**
> 
> **And you best put this song on repeat  
>  Maybe then you won’t end up like me**
> 
> _Ask Me How I Know_ by Garth Brooks

In many ways Shimada Industries, once he had a better grasp of what it was, reminded him of the Umbrella Corp blurb from Resident Evil. They had holdings and satellite branches all over Japan and even all over the world though not all of them bore the Shimada name and were practically a household name. As it had exploded outward into the empire he now knew it to be, Shimada Industries had absorbed hundreds of smaller businesses that struggled in their fields. With the backing of a much higher entity and the iron-fisted grip of its CEO, they had prospered, flourished, and paid it forward as they in turn expanded.

The modern Shimada Industries empire had a wide range of fields, earning the plural in its name. It covered household products, automobiles, healthcare, finance, and so on. Shimada Sojiro was known as a fierce and shrewd businessman – had to be in order to bring forth such an empire – but this was not always so.

Nearly thirty years – 27, actually – he had stumbled as if he had slammed straight into a brick wall. The company, then only a modest one (only in comparison to the empire it was currently) that had built ships for the JMSDF as well as other clients, nearly ran itself aground as he floundered in some personal crisis.

His wife and children had left him.

Just when it seemed that the company – then called Shimada Shipbuilding – would be ruined irreversibly, he seemed to turn around. Instead of remaining sequestered in his office to pour over books and accounts, he rolled up his sleeves and worked the assembly line beside those that had served him so loyally. He pressed rivets, welded, used forklifts, did inventory. When asked, he told his workers that he had no family physically with him and that if he was lucky, they would return; until then, he had to prepare to make their world better for them.

Soon Shimada Shipbuilding expanded to Shimada Engineering. Their work was known – in wood and metal for some of his workers also knew the Old Ways of shipbuilding – all over Japan and Sojiro knew it was time to expand. He hired engineers to design bigger and better ships and when his warehouses became too small, hired architects to design bigger and better ones.

As orders came in for the Shimada Ships and the company began expanding, Sojiro remained on the floor. He hired accountants to pour over the books – which he had done at night, now that he had no one at home – and managers more experienced than he to oversee the shipyards and dry docks. As he hired he worked beside the new workers and learned their names, dreams, and families. Only the oldest there knew that Kichirou was in fact the CEO of the company.

The architects he hired created a work of art in warehouses and building design and he hired them to continue the trend. The engineers pressed to expand outward to not just create naval ships, but aircraft as well and he allowed them a small trial period to see how it would go.

So Shimada Engineering became Shimada Industries, the first instance of its name. As much as he was able to, even in his older age, Sojiro worked beside all of his workers – from the lowest intern to the highest managers – until everyone knew the hard-working Kichirou.

They expanded even more.

The architects designed a hospital whose funding evaporated part of the way through. Sojiro-as-Kichirou poured funds back into it and took it under his wing. For the first year he hemorrhaged money through the hospital until it got its feet under it. More often than not, Kichirou was present there, cleaning rooms and floors, bringing flowers to all of the overworked nurses and finding new and innovative ways, with his architects, to redesign a hospital that was easier on the staff as well as the patients.

He absorbed the company that his handful of trusted architects had come from, another family business that was beginning to slip down the slope toward bankruptcy. They kept their name; he insisted.

More and more this rising company was beginning to come into the limelight. There were more requests for the appearance of Shimada Sojiro and interviews with him about the secrets for his rising business. Thing was,  _ Kichirou _ liked where he was. He liked the anonymity of working with his employees and the easy familiarity he had with them.

He got a double. Yamada Hanzo, his eldest son’s namesake and the son of his father’s business partner, had grown up with Sojiro, had been working beside him the entire time. When Sojiro stayed in Japan to continue the business, he traveled to America and got degrees in business and foreign affairs. If they wanted to expand, Yamada Hanzo would be the perfect face for it. Not only did they look similar – they were, in fact, distantly related though growing up they had joked that there was some kind of mix-up and they were in fact twins – but Yamada Hanzo had the experience with working with media and pandering to the desires of the world as they sought to expand to international markets.

Yamada Hanzo, as expected, sought Sojiro’s approval before each interview or before agreeing to anything. In this, they were one: Yamada Hanzo adopted Sojiro’s own expressions, tics, and mannerisms and became able to mimic him almost perfectly as needed. Growing up together under the umbrella of Shimada Shipbuilding, Yamada Hanzo also had the experience with the growth of the company and knew, where no one save perhaps Shimada Aimi did, the inspiration for Sojiro’s sudden depression and subsequent turnaround of the company.

His employees, who had already become suspicious of Kichirou’s seeming omnipresence, relaxed when they saw live interviews on TV while Kichirou worked with them. They concluded – with surprising accuracy though they didn’t know how close it was to the truth – that Kichirou must be a distant relation of Shimada Sojiro, which would explain why he seemed to be everywhere. For a while they remained suspicious, unsure if Kichirou was a spy, but ultimately they relaxed because it was  _ Kichirou _ and not their CEO.

Shimada Industries, with Yamada Hanzo as the public face of Sojiro, continued to expand. Its true size was difficult to determine because though there were ten Shimada Industries plants worldwide, there were tens more that were purchased by them under different names. Sojiro kept the trend of working with struggling family businesses. With his backing and tight control of finances and marketing – which he had a personal interest in – they could only succeed.

There was talk of a reality TV show where Yamada Hanzo-as-Sojiro would “flip” a small business.

It was immediately shot down.

Seeing some of his companies begin to weaken, he absorbed what he called “support companies”: marketing, finance, sales, and law firms and turned their attention primarily to the other companies in his empire. He explained through Yamada Hanzo that just as different departments supported a singular company as a whole, so too did he need to support the other companies beneath the umbrella of the Shimada Industries empire; it was just on a much larger scale.

As with anyone that drew attention, there was both positive and negative backlash. Companies asked for advice on how to expand; others, including anarchists, tried to bring them down. (Personally, Sojiro wasn’t entirely sure why as he was careful to keep his business practices ethical and a petty part of him wondered if it was because these so-called anarchists had nothing better to do with themselves.)

Stocks plummeted when they tried to claim that Shimada Industries was backed by the  _ yakuza _ which while not true…wasn’t entirely a falsehood. Much to his – and, really everyone’s – surprise, a member of the  _ yakuza _ stepped forward to speak out against the allegations.

Yes, the symbol of Shimada Industries was a symbol of one of the most notorious clans of the  _ yakuza _ empire. The Shimada- _ gumi _ were still well implanted and well in power but the  _ yakuza _ reminded the media that their western ideas of gangsters and mafia didn’t quite fit in with their society. Perhaps, the  _ yakuza _ suggested, Shimada Sojiro- _ sama _ was a distant relation of the Shimada- _ gumi _ , or even a closer relation. But Shimada wasn’t  _ too _ uncommon of a name. Perhaps the symbol of Shimada Industries emulated the symbol of the Shimada _ -gumi _ , but dragons weren’t an uncommon motif in Japanese symbolism.

The _yakuza_ explained that he couldn’t claim that _all_ _yakuza_ had nothing to do with Shimada Industries, but he stressed that he wasn’t aware of any connection. Perhaps everything seemed to point to it but perhaps Shimada Akira, the founder of Shimada Shipbuilding, simply wanted to honor his family crest and the name of his family which all should draw pride from.

It didn’t completely satisfy the media and even less the anarchists, but it kept the stocks from plummeting further. The police launched an investigation but aside from the coincidences pointed out by the  _ yakuza _ , there was no concrete proof either way.

People wondered what kind of company it was that would inspire the defense of the  _ yakuza _ but so reminded that Western ideas of gangs and mafias had no place in Japan, the subject was more or less dropped. Yamada Hanzo made many public appearances to discuss it with Sojiro’s blessing. Despite the potential for more negative backlash, Yamada Hanzo discussed the history of the Shimada name.

Yes, Shimada Akira was related to the Shimada _ -gumi _ . It was a distant relation, but it was present in their heritage and they felt no shame for it. The symbol of Shimada Industries, a helix of two serpentine dragons, was a common motif of  _ yakuza _ art and a symbol of the Shimada- _ gumi _ almost exclusively. When Shimada Akira started Shimada Shipbuilding, the symbol was changed – only slightly – so that it wasn’t exact yet would still honor their ancestry and heritage.

Their motives were further questioned, but eventually the backlash died down because no one could fault the honoring of tradition, even one as questionable as the Shimada- _ gumi _ .

* * *

 

After that, Hanzo stopped listening. While he was  _ interested _ , this was the fourth time he had heard the “official” speech – Yamada Hanzo, his namesake, and Sojiro’s alter-ego of Kichirou being a secret – and it was quickly becoming tedious.

Perhaps a little too impatiently, he picked up the pace and murmured to the receptionist – one of many – that he knew the way to the lounge. She wrinkled her nose as she took a moment to process his apparent accent but bowed politely and left him alone. Hanami lingered behind to speak to her quietly – familiarly, as Hanami had worked as a receptionist as well and knew the other woman – as Hanzo stalked further down the hall.

Once around the curve of the hall, he slowed. Though the building itself was rectangular (albeit with rounded edges), the hall to the waiting room was curved into a corkscrew pattern. The walls were lined with old pictures and traditional art – the receptionists were expected to be able to lead an honored guest up these halls and give them the story of the company in at least three languages each. Between the three or more receptionists on shift at the front, they could cover the languages of the primary participants of the company (Japanese, English, Cantonese, and German) and were scheduled accordingly.

In his personal opinion, the design of the hall to the waiting room was more or less a stroke of genius. It was a short corkscrew that took a guest up to the second or third floor and was set at a shallow enough angle that it didn’t at first seem like they were ascending. Unlike the Guggenheim, from which the architects had likely drawn inspiration, there wasn’t enough space to keep the angle shallow enough to be almost completely unnoticeable so the vertical space was “cheated” by shallow sets of stairs spaced periodically throughout the hall.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t as flawlessly executed as it would have been if there was more space for such a frivolous use of a hallway, but it was the little things that caught Hanzo’s attention.

He stopped suddenly, feeling like he had been sucker-punched, when he saw a canvas print of a very familiar sunflower.

“What is it?” Hanami asked as she caught up. When he first met her, she had a much stronger accent and hadn’t been too confident in her spoken English. After almost six months of speaking almost exclusively English to him, she had gotten much better. “You’re so rude,  _ itoko _ !” Seeing what he was staring at, she cooed. “Oh, how pretty! I will need to ask Uncle Kichirou- _ sama _ where he got that.”

Wordlessly, Hanzo pointed at the small signature along the corner. Ofelias;  _ AZ & JM _ .

He didn’t need to see her to know that Hanami rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s  _ Jesse _ .”

“He once promised to send a print of the sunflowers to Aimi when she was in the hospital,” Hanzo murmured. “I never saw if he did or not.”

Hanami huffed but was saved when they heard the sound of footsteps down the hall. “ _ Oji-sama! _ ” Hanami exclaimed when they saw Kichirou down the hall.

“ _ Strangers! _ ” Kichirou exclaimed in Japanese with a smile that was entirely for Hanami. Hanzo ignored them and continued to stare at the sunflower. The phantom pain of Rishi’s needles burned the back of his hand and wrist and he rubbed it absently. “ _ What brings you both here? _ ”

His cousin giggled and he continued to ignore them to look at the hanging. Taking a few steps back, he snapped a picture with his phone and turned to Kichirou. It was such a strange thing to see him outside a perfectly pressed business suit – something he seemed to find “casual” rather than the opposite. But Kichirou was simply a distant relative of the CEO of the company rather than the owner and so he dressed accordingly. Today he seemed to be a janitor and wore the proper jumpsuit for it.

“ _ It’s good to see you, _ ” Kichirou said, his eyes and smile taking on a strained edge. They always were, with Hanzo, but he knew it was just because they were both awkward around each other. Hanzo nodded. “ _ Well, let’s get you to Shimada- _ sama _ ’s office. _ ”

Hanami jabbed him in the ribs with the sharp point of an elbow. “You  _ could _ be nice, you know.” It was hard to know how much she knew about Kichirou and Hanzo knew that he couldn’t share a lot with her because of it. Still, she seemed to think that he couldn’t speak or understand English and perhaps that was her own mistake; he had no interest in correcting her.

“I am,” he replied stiffly.

Hanami huffed in annoyance and bounced ahead to walk with Kichirou. They spoke to each other in Japanese – from what Hanzo heard it was just to catch up since they had last seen each other a month prior.

Kichirou led them to a private elevator and they all rode awkwardly to the penthouse where the CEO had his massive office. Most joked that it was also his home, as the entire floor was separated into separate sections: a mock office that he used for photo shoots, a smaller office that he used to actually work, a small kitchenette, a large desk for yet another receptionist, and a small storage room.

“ _ Oji-sama! _ ” Hanami called out as the doors opened. The receptionist there looked startled, halfway to answering the phone that rang on her desk.

A moment later, Yamada Hanzo walked out of the “mock office” and beamed. Hanzo and Kichirou watched as Hanami skipped over to him before they both wandered away toward the office of Shimada Sojiro.

“You came back earlier than I expected,” Kichirou said as he closed the door behind them.

“ _ I’m sorry for the late notice, _ ” Hanzo said stiffly in Japanese.

Kichirou waved it off. “I am more than happy to make time for you,” he said. “And you can speak English if that is what you are comfortable with.” Unlike Aimi’s, Kichirou’s accent was audible but not very present. Strange considering he hadn’t been speaking English regularly for the past 27 years; or perhaps he had and Hanzo was being unfair to him.

Again.

Hanzo bowed. “That has improved,” Kichirou teased gently. 

“Hanami beats me,” Hanzo said dryly before he could talk himself out of it.

“There’s no shame in admitting it,” Kichirou replied gravely though his eyes sparkled with good humor. “How was the flight?”

Hanzo shrugged. “Better than Delta.”

“Everything is better than Delta.” Kichirou gestured for Hanzo to sit in one of the chairs at the small table that took up the corner. “I took the liberty of asking Li Xuan-Feng to order us lunch. Have you eaten already?”

If there was one thing that Hanzo could (even grudgingly) admire about Kichirou, it was that he tried to learn everyone’s names and pronounce them properly. “No,” Hanzo admitted. “We came straight from the airport.”

“You didn’t eat the in-flight meals, I hope?” Kichirou said with a concerned frown.

Hanzo shrugged. “Hanami did – she doesn’t learn her lesson – but I got a quick meal at the airport in Tel Aviv.”

“Good,” Kichirou said as he eased himself into the chair across the table from Hanzo. “Where are you thinking of going next?”

Mulishly, Hanzo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Will you stay for a while?” Hanzo shrugged again. “It’s difficult to plan your next trip if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hanzo muttered.

Kichirou cocked his head to the side. It reminded Hanzo of Rishi, which led his thoughts to Jesse. His heart hurt. His father leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers as there was a soft knock on the door.

“ _ Sumimasen _ ,” Li Xuan-Feng said as they opened the door to the office. There were large plates of food held precariously in their hands and Kichirou jumped up quickly to help them. “ _ Arigatou, Shimada-sama _ .”

Hanzo helped his father set the plates and boxes down as Li Xuan-Feng backed out of the room and closed the door behind them. “Are you Shimada Kichirou to everyone?”

“Mostly just Kichirou,” his father replied simply as Hanzo’s stomach rumbled. “I don’t give my last name unless people ask but for that I don’t lie. They just assume I’m distantly related to Sojiro.”

Kichirou divvied up the food – dumplings,  _ takoyaki _ , noodle dishes that could travel well, and  _ bi bim bap _ – and Hanzo wondered if he was trying to tell him something. Still, he clapped his hands together, with his father said  _ itadakimasu _ , and began eating.

They never talked while they ate – they were awkward enough with each other that neither saw any reason to attempt conversation around food – so Hanzo let his mind wander to what he had wanted to report on.

Despite himself – and the good food in front of him because Li Xuan-Feng could  _ always _ find good food to bring back – Hanzo felt his mind wandering toward the sunflower in the hall. Jesse had once told him that the particular strain that he had bred – the same one in the picture and that he had given to Hanzo the first time they met – was called  _ Ofelias _ and had been named after his mother who had started it.

Then his mind wandered further when thoughts of Jesse became too painful. Israel had been fascinating – unsurprisingly, the open-air food markets had been his favorite aspect of the trip – but at the same time he found himself thinking about the desert.

Specifically, Jesse back in his element.

Once (while very drunk), Jesse had admitted that he knew exactly where he had grown up though he tends to deny it when people ask. His memories of it, like all of his childhood memories before Ana, were rather grainy even when he was sober but he could remember the baking heat of the desert and the endless plains of clay and sand. He could remember that he lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico and he  _ thought _ that the street was “yellow” –  _ Amarillo _ or some such – and that his house was longer than it was wide; he could remember his mother with a lap loom trying to weave him something nice when she collapsed shortly before she died.

Now he wondered what Jesse would look like in the Jerusalem sun against the Wall. Would the sun freckles, barely visible unless he stood beneath the high noon sun, be visible? Would his brown hair shine red and gold like his  _ Ofelias _ ? More than once Hanzo had imagined him in front of stalls in the marketplace, begging with his eyes for some knick-knack or another; Hanami had rolled her eyes so much that he was sure she was dizzy because he bought everything that the mirage-Jesse had asked for and he was gathering quite a collection of silly, inane things for someone that would probably rather burn them than accept such a gift from someone that had spurned him beyond repair.

Someone who was  _ unworthy _ of his open-hearted affection.

There was nothing left on their plates and across the table from him, Kichirou gently placed his palms together. “ _ Gochisōsama _ ,” he murmured. Hanzo nodded, unable to say anything around the sudden lump that rose in his throat.

His father seemed to understand and the two of them cleaned up their empty plates. As if psychic or summoned by some inaudible cue Li Xuan-Feng bustled in, wiped off the table, took their trash, and fetched them both something to drink. With a smile they handed Hanzo a cool bottle of strawberry Ramune and as he sipped it he wondered if Jesse would have liked it.

He probably would have liked the melon flavor better.

“Something weighs on your mind,” Kichirou murmured. “Would you like to share?”

“No,” Hanzo replied sullenly.

Kichirou nodded serenely. “Very well. Would you like to tell me about your travels?”

Reaching into the satchel – a gift from Rishi before he left – he pulled out his tablet and opened the file of pictures from his most recent trip. Kichirou listened attentively as Hanzo retraced their steps through Greece and into Israel.

Hanzo could talk about his trip all he want – he could spend  _ hours _ on it and the little adventures that he and Hanami had gotten into, like the time she fell off a camel because she didn’t believe that the act of them standing would be so rough, or all of the times she had nearly spat out food when she learned that it was offal.

Eventually he wound down and ended the slideshow with a selfie that he and Hanami had taken at the airport in Tel Aviv.

“I had thought she looked a little…crispy.”

Hanzo smiled shakily. “She doesn’t like the smell of sunscreen,” he explained.

“Do you like traveling with Hanami?” Kichirou wanted to know. His light eyes were almost piercing.

Not for the first time, Hanzo wondered if there was an ulterior motive for Kichirou to send Hanami along with him. If they hadn’t been related, he would have thought that he was being set up for something silly like marriage.

Perhaps that was unfair of him. Kichirou had already proven to be a strange mix of traditional and modern – Li Xuan-Feng was alone proof of that as he didn’t mind if they chose to dress as a man or a woman so long as it was professional. He had even adjusted the medical coverage for the entire Shimada Industries – or set in motion for such changes to be made – for hormone treatments to be at least “partially” covered by the provided medical insurance.

Kichirou leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers again like a movie villain. It looked ridiculous given that he was in a janitor’s jumpsuit rather than a crisp suit, but Sojiro had been a businessman before he became Kichirou.

“Do you know  _ why _ I asked you to visit so often?” Kichirou asked, startling Hanzo who had not even answered his previous question.

Hanzo fiddled with his tablet. “I figured you had your reasons,” he muttered. “There was no sense in me questioning it too much.” 

Nodding, Kichirou stood and walked to his bookshelf, gesturing for Hanzo to follow. Sighing, he stood and obeyed and found a shelf full of old-style photo albums. At Kichirou’s nod, he opened the first one; he nearly dropped it when he saw a very old photo of his parents at their wedding. 

Digging his fingers into a place halfway through the album, he found a card from the hospital congratulating the Shimada family on their son, Shimada Hanzo. There was a hospital bracelet and a small ink footprint that was hardly as large as Hanzo’s thumb. 

At the end of the album was a picture of Aimi holding Genji while Sojiro held Hanzo who was reaching up toward his father’s nose instead of looking at the camera. “We took Genji to the temple to be blessed,” Sojiro explained. “And you wanted nothing more than to swim with the  _ koi _ and play with the peacocks.” 

Hanzo replaced the album and took another. There were pictures of him and his brother in  _ yukata _ during the Children’s Day festivals, about to attend school, playing with other children. The second book ended halfway through but was filled with pictures full of a life that he and Genji didn’t remember. 

The third album didn’t have Sojiro in it or his happier counterpart, Kichirou. Instead it had Aimi, who looked worn and tired, holding Hanzo by one hand and Genji cradled in the other; the iconic Golden Gate Bridge rose high behind them. 

Kichirou glanced down at his pocket as his phone began to ring. With a short nod to Hanzo, he answered it and walked out the door. Hanzo hardly noticed; he was too preoccupied with baby pictures of him and Genji. 

The next album he picked up had pictures of him and Genji in Philadelphia.  _ Sobo _ -Hana was in the background, looking as fierce and terrifying as ever and he reminded himself to visit a temple and light a stick of incense for her. 

Behind him, the door opened and Li Xuan-Feng walked in with a gentle smile. “Shimada _ -sama _ apologizes for the phone call,” they told him in accented English. “He asked that I keep you company while he deals with the issue that came up.” 

“Did you know about this?” he asked, gesturing to the shelves. It was a silly question; Li Xuan-Feng was Kichirou’s personal assistant though they didn’t appear in public very often lest someone ask why someone like Kichirou required one. 

Still, Li Xuan-Feng regarded the shelf with an appropriate seriousness. “Yes,” they said at last. “He is very proud of you; both of you.” He reached for an album that looked more recent - it was a soft powder blue and Hanzo realized that after a point there was a clear separation between green and blue albums. “This one is my favorite, if that isn’t too creepy for me to say so.” 

Curious despite himself, Hanzo took the album from them and flipped it open. The first picture was Hanzo’s graduation from culinary school. Beside it was a receipt and shipping certification. 

“I spent  _ weeks _ to find just the right blades,” Li Xuan-Feng admitted. “So perhaps it was a little selfish of me to include the receipt but at the same time I thought it was fitting.” 

Hanzo’s head snapped up. “The knife set? That was you?”

“Shimada- _ sama _ , actually,” Li Xuan-Feng corrected. “I was just the sad intern that was stuck looking for them.” Despite their words, their smile was sincere. 

Surprised, Hanzo continued to flip through the book. There were newspaper articles, takeaway menus from restaurants he featured in, and pages of printed articles featuring the opening of North Wind. 

“How did he know so much?” Hanzo asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Li Xuan-Feng shrugged. “Shimada _ -sama _ wrote letters to Aimi _ -sama _ often,” they said. “Perhaps she told him.” 

Reminded of the letters that never made it to him, Hanzo’s throat tightened. “I didn’t get the letters he sent me,” he said quietly. “How often did he send them?”

“Weekly,” his father’s assistant replied. “He had time blocked off every week to write one - he still does, even if he doesn’t send them.” 

Hanzo closed the album and opened another, this one green. A picture of Genji graduating culinary school met his eyes as soon as he opened the pages. “Are these color-coded?”

“They used to be labelled, but when you released the design for North Wind four years ago and a picture of you and Genji in your chef jackets, I had them changed to match the colors you chose for yourself.” 

Unable to deal with thoughts of his brother, he closed the album and selected a blue one. He lost track of time as he found pictures and pamphlets and copies of laminated menus and napkins from North Wind. “I didn’t know he visited.”

“He didn’t,” Li Xuan-Feng replied, glancing over his shoulder at the pages of napkins and menus. “But he kept printed copies of the most up-to-date menu he could find on your site and if he knew of people from the company or other associates visiting the area, he’d recommend it and ask them to bring back things.” They smiled at Hanzo’s wide-eyed look of surprise. “He’s so proud of you both.” 

Hanzo looked down at the album again and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I used to hate him.” 

Li Xuan-Feng hummed. “Perhaps it is presumptuous of me,” they said quietly. “If it is, I beg your forgiveness but I feel I must say this...Shimada- _ sama _ is a good man. He just wants you to be happy. Please try to remember that.” 

It was presumptuous but Hanzo wouldn’t say anything to them. Instead, he bowed his head as the door to the office opened and Kichirou returned. Li Xuan-Feng bowed themselves out with a meaningful look at Hanzo over his father’s shoulders. 

“I will stay here for a week,” Hanzo told Kichirou before he could say anything else. “Then Hanami and I will decide where we should go.”

If the other man suspected anything, he said nothing, instead inclining his head to show he heard and understood his son’s request. “I ask that you visit your mother; she misses you.”

“If it is permissible, I will stay at the house,” Hanzo added. “And I would like to...borrow these.”

Kichirou nodded. “I will have Li Xuan-Feng prepare a room for you.”

Briefly Hanzo wondered if Li Xuan-Feng was a  _ servant _ rather than a personal assistant, but he said nothing. They had been with Kichirou long enough that they were more than a simple assistant and had earned more than enough of Kichirou’s respect; Kichirou wouldn’t demean Li Xuan-Feng like that if they weren’t okay with it.

“As for the albums...I have copies of them at home as well,” Kichirou told Hanzo. “You need not take these.” 

Hanzo nodded and carefully put them back into place. “I will leave, then.” 

They made their awkward goodbyes and Li Xuan-Feng took him and Hanami down to the parking garage where they drove them to the Shimada estate through the ancestral temple to avoid drawing attention. Hanami waved goodbye, as her family lived at the shrine, and promised to visit soon so they could discuss their next trip. 

Li Xuan-Feng and Hanzo continued on to the main house, stopping only to let a small flock of peahens cross the road. 

Aimi was at the door to greet them with tea. She looked much better, the smile lines around her eyes and mouth running deeper. In the time he was away she had gained weight but in a good way and now looked less of a wraith than she had the last time he had seen her. 

She kissed Li Xuan-Feng’s cheek as they passed with some of Hanzo’s meagre luggage and set about cleaning a portion of the house. When she did nothing more than click her tongue at them, Hanzo knew that she had gotten used to the idea that she couldn’t stop them from cleaning up and had simply accepted the inevitable. 

His respect for Li Xuan-Feng, already rather high, increased with the knowledge that they were able to out-stubborn his mother. 

Perhaps sensing his mood, Aimi smiled and gestured for him to gather their mugs. “It’s a lovely day outside,” she explained. “Let’s go to the shrine by the  _ dojo _ .”

“I want to hate him,” Hanzo told her as they walked. “But I cannot.”

“I’m glad,” Aimi said tiredly and Hanzo worried that confiding in her would undo all of the good work that reuniting with her spouse had done. “It’s a hard transition; we both understand.” 

Hanzo considered that as they walked beneath the trees and crunched along dirt and gravel walkways. “I always remembered him as someone much more serious.”

“People change when they meet the right people,” Aimi replied with a glance at him. “Haven’t you seen how you changed with Jesse?”

The mention of Jesse made Hanzo’s heart ache. He said nothing, grinding his jaws together. 

“You silly man,” Aimi said fondly. “You think that separation is the end of everything.”

“I  _ left _ him,” Hanzo snapped, unable to hold himself from back. “Of  _ course _ it’s the end of everything.” 

Aimi hummed, unbothered by his rudeness. She nodded to one of the attendants who nodded back; he was probably one of her distant cousins as the Ueoka family took care of all of the shrines and temples on the estate. According to lore, that was how she met his father. 

“He loves you,” she said simply. “More than for just your body or your personality. He has a very open heart.” 

Hanzo felt his anger melt. He wanted to reach into his pocket for Jesse’s last gifts to him but his hands were full. 

“Have you heard from him lately?” Aimi asked as she found a bench that suited their needs. It was in a forgotten courtyard beneath the shade of one of the  _ dojo _ ’s many eaves. He let her sit down first before handing her her mug and sitting beside her. “Ana has sent me a few letters and emails.”

Setting down his mug, he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a small jewelry box which he handed to his mother. 

It had traveled with him for the past seven months since he found it tucked in the pocket of the jacket he had worn to the airport. Jesse had somehow managed to slip it into his pocket before they parted and Hanzo was privately afraid that if he let it out of his sight, it would disappear forever. After traveling with him so long, the corners of the box were rounded and squished and the sides of the box were scratched and dirty. 

Aimi opened the box and found the letter - read and reread by Hanzo a thousand times since he had found it - and the small acrylic block. He carefully didn’t look at her, choosing instead to focus on the strutting of a peacock trying to woo a peahen as it meandered past them. 

“Oh,” Aimi breathed. There was a rustle as she pulled the small epoxy square and the scarlet thread tied in a cross - like he had tied a ribbon around a present - over one of the upper corners where it wouldn’t obscure the flower. 

Hanzo had always wondered how Jesse had managed to preserve the flower or what he had preserved it in, but it had somehow captured the brilliance of one of his special sunflowers in stunning beauty. A pressed sunflower, long since destroyed despite Hanzo’s best efforts, had accompanied it along with a note written in Jesse’s messy handwriting on the lid of the box:

_ I will stop loving you _

_ When the last flower dies. _

_ Love you always darling, _

_ Jesse _

More than once it had made Hanzo cry and now he felt something in his throat tighten when his mother looked up at him. 

“You silly man,” she said with a watery laugh. “That man loves you more than anything and yet you wonder at...how much you  _ deserve _ his love. It’s not about  _ deserving _ ; that’s not what love is.” 

Carefully she wrapped the flower up and pressed it back into his hands. She got up to feed the peahen and shoo off her stubborn suitor, leaving Hanzo with their still-steaming mugs to ponder her words. 

Dinner that night was somewhat awkward as the three of them weren’t sure of how to interact as a family, but at least it wasn’t violent. Hanzo had cooked - made marinated kebabs the way Ana had taught him - and tried not to think too hard about the other woman lest the direction of his thoughts be turned toward Jesse. 

“May I speak with you in my office, Hanzo?” his father asked when the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Aimi nodded once to him, with a look that said,  _ I am your mother, Hanzo, be good and follow him! _

It could have also said,  _ you boys are idiots, I’m going to sit out here and watch Korean soap operas with Li Xuan-Feng _ . 

(Li Xuan-Feng, Hanzo learned, was better described as Kichirou’s shadow as they were usually around him or Aimi even if there seemed to be no reason for it. As if hearing Hanzo’s thoughts, they glanced over and gave a cheery wave as if this were a regular occurrence. Hanzo wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but he decided that he liked Li Xuan-Feng well enough even if their presence and comfort in his parents’ house was...odd.)

“I had wanted you to reach this realization on your own,” Kichirou told him as they walked down the halls. “But your mother tells me that I am just being silly and that it would be better to simply tell you outright.” He opened the antiquated  _ shoji _ door to his home office and gestured for Hanzo to walk in first. 

It was much like the office he had at Shimada Industries, nearly identical down to the shelf of photo albums. Unlike his other office, though, there were large binders stuffed to the brim lining the shelf beneath them in pink, blue, and green. 

Hanzo walked to them and wiggled out a blue one. It was filled with copies of letters that Kichirou had never sent...or had but that had been intercepted. The reminder of Genji’s betrayal curdled something in him and he snapped the binder shut, shoving it back into its place. 

He turned to face Kichirou who almost looked...nervous. “Your mother came up to me one day nearly thirty years ago, what seemed to be out of the blue at least to me, and told me that she was unhappy and wanted to leave. At first I thought it was some foolish joke. Had she been left wanting? Had I done something wrong?” He sighed and sat down heavily, for once without his usual decorum. “But she asked and I was hopeless to her desires and I let her go.” 

“I thought she left,” Hanzo blurted. “She just ran away.”

His father smiled slightly. “In some ways that is exactly what she did. She left behind everything she had and took you two; she only took enough money to buy plane tickets for you.” 

There was a peculiar way that his father spoke that Hanzo recognized. “And she took your heart.”

“She took my joy,” Kichirou agreed. “Everything I had ever loved - every concrete proof to me that there was good in this world was gone, had traveled thousands of miles across the sea.” 

Unbidden, Hanzo’s thoughts went to Jesse and the way they had parted. He wondered if Jesse felt the way his father did. No one he had traded letters and infrequent texts with had mentioned Jesse except in passing, if at all. 

Kichirou smiled sadly at him. “I could go on for years about how much it hurt to lose your mother,” he said with an almost wistful sigh. “But I will spare you hearing an old man ramble. I want you to think very hard about this, Hanzo: what would make you the most happy right this moment? Traveling? Seeing the world? Or the embrace of someone very dear to you?”

His eyes were too knowing and Hanzo felt ice flood his veins. In hopes of escaping his father’s eyes, he walked along the shelves of pictures and albums. To his surprise, he found a blue album with a silly heart-shaped rainbow sticker on its spine. 

“Your mother sent them to me,” Kichirou said. “At first I was confused - I didn’t understand it - but I realized that it didn’t matter. What right did  _ I _ have to judge you? All I wanted, I realized, was for you to be happy. What will make you the happiest right now?”

Hanzo opened the album to a bookmarked page. It was a candid shot - like one of the ones he had sent to  _ Chopped _ for the Redemption episode - of Jesse standing with Hanzo wrapped up in his arms. It was a borderline indecent shot, especially since it was in his  _ very traditional father’s study _ ; Jesse’s prosthetic hand was spread over Hanzo’s belly, Hanzo’s own fingers tangled with metal digits and his head tipped back to rest on Jesse’s collarbones. There were smudges of flour in Jesse’s beard and Hanzo’s hair was coming undone from the gold ribbon Jesse had given him for Christmas; in one hand he held a steaming mug and Hanzo could feel the memory of the heat from Ana’s homemade pumpkin cider on the back of his knuckles. 

“A house on a hill,” Hanzo said softly. “The light from veranda calls weary farmers home. Some nights when the weather is fair they sat out on the roof to stare at the stars.”

When he looked up, his father was smiling softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually have much to say about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write and edit...and to keep from Li Xuan-Feng from completely stealing the show. They probably still did but I tried my best to reign their enthusiasm in as much as I could without cutting him completely haha. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone that has left comments and kudos! I get so excited to see the email notifications and they always make me smile! 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr at [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com) where I sometimes post deleted chapters, sneak peeks, additional scenes, and all sorts of other silly shenanigans. Feel free to come and yell at me or not :D
> 
> ~DC


	26. I Run to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gathering his courage – and the little space left in his stomach – he went to face his last course and found Lucio waiting suspiciously outside of the bathroom for him. “Y’know…” he said.
> 
> “I know,” Lucio replied. “But man, you gotta trust me on this.”
> 
> “I trusted you for this,” Jesse pointed out. “And now I feel like I’m about to explode.”
> 
> Lucio rolled his eyes and unexpectedly grabbed Jesse’s shoulders. “But for real,” he said quietly. “Trust me. Okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We run on fumes  
> Your life and mine  
> Like the sands of time  
> Slippin’ right on through  
>  **And our love’s the only truth  
>  That’s why I run to you**
> 
> **This world keeps spinning faster  
>  Into a new disaster so I run to you**  
> I run to you baby  
> When it starts coming undone  
> Baby you’re the only one I run to  
> I run to you, whoa oh, oh I run to you
> 
> ~ _I Run to You_ by Lady Antebellum

Birthdays were a big deal on the Farm. The birthday boy or girl (and they were always called this, no matter their age) got to choose the meals for the entire day. A week before their birthday they had to submit a list so that whoever was cooking was able to get all of the groceries.

For Hana’s birthday, she asked for ramen. Herbalist Tang drove up as a surprise and though it wasn’t proper Japanese ramen noodles, he did a whole display of hand-pulled noodles for everyone available and willing to watch. For those that weren’t, Sombra recorded the demonstration. His husband, Louis, showed up later that evening to join Herbalist Tang in preparing dinner. Genji and Rishi very quietly showed up as well and for the most part hid in the kitchen; Jesse found out later that for the week leading up to Hana’s birthday Genji had been at Junkertown, working with Hog and Jamie to glaze and prepare duck and pork for the broths and meat that went into the ramen they served.

They nearly missed Bastian’s birthday and were only alerted to it when Orisa and Pums gave Jesse a box of gifts for the man from the staff at Watchpoint a few days before. That night Ana faced off in a battle of stubbornness and sullen stares with Bastian as Lucio laughed until he cried. For his birthday they had various kinds of steaks: eggplant for Rishi who was vegetarian, salmon for Genji who was pescatarian, and steak and lamb for those that wanted. He showed off his new prosthetic arm that night as he cut his own steaks.

For as long as he could remember, Gabe had always been a poor sport about celebrating his birthday so in retaliation Ana always made him a princess cake and filled his plate with fruit and vegetable flowers. When Genji had learned of this, he chipped in and showed her how to make the more difficult flowers and presented him, in front of everyone, a truly enormous bouquet of carved fruits. Rishi, using his strange kind of dark sorcery, had created a crown of their “flowers” that Sombra managed to place on his head. That year Jack surprised him with a bouquet of bacon, as dramatic as any soap opera as he fell to his knees in front of Gabe and demanded in (still very poor) Spanish that Gabe marry him as his true love; grunting, Gabe took the bouquet from Jack and walked away, declaring – in English so everyone knew what he said – that it would take more than Jack’s salty meat to woo him.

Given how important birthdays were to everyone to celebrate, it was a strange sort of thing to note that as the month of his birthday approached, there was no mention of it. Not that Jesse was so self-centered or prideful to be truly upset by it, but it was a strange thing that he noticed as the day drew nearer. There wasn’t a single peep from Ana or ‘Ree, the people that usually teased him the most about it. Hana made reference to it once – odd, since unless she had been specifically looking at the Wall of Calendars which had a list of everyone’s birthdays she wouldn’t have known it – but aside from that, he hadn’t heard from anyone else.

That was fine: Jesse was in his thirties and celebrating a birthday wasn’t the end of the world to him…he just didn’t make a big deal about it like Gabe did.

Still, he was surprised to find the morning of his birthday that his schedule had been cleared except for a vague note to report to the Base kitchen.

Suspicious given that he wasn’t really allowed in the kitchen without Hanzo or…really, just Hanzo allowed him in the kitchen at all.

Or he  _ had _ .

It had been half a year and still the thought of Hanzo brought an empty ache to his chest. As Orisa had told them in their early-morning pseudo therapy sessions, it didn’t really get easier but he was becoming used to the dull throbbing.

Not sure what to expect, he ducked into the kitchen…and only found Ana cradling a steaming mug of coffee. “Good morning,  _ habibi _ ,” she said with a smile as she handed him the mug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. From the smell, it was the good kind she used for special occasions. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Jesse murmured, sipping on the drink. It was flavored with chocolate and orange peel – new additions to her usual concoctions. He glanced at her over the rim of the mug.

Ana smiled. “Tangerine peel,” she corrected as if he had asked out loud.

“Close enough,” Jesse muttered unrepentantly as he took another blissful sip. “My schedule says that I’m to report to the kitchen,” he said cautiously. “And my team is ‘Guest’?”

“So it’s not me,” Ana said dryly. She pulled out a tin of tea that Jesse didn’t recognize from the cabinets as the kettle on the stove began to rattle. “Would you mind getting that?” she asked as someone knocked on the door.

Setting down his mug, Jesse wandered out toward the sound of the knock and opened the back door. If it was a visitor, he pitied them because the door opened near the compost bins.

“Cheers, love!” Lena said as he opened the door. “Happy birthday, Jesse!” She threw herself at him and gave him an enthusiastic hug.

From the kitchen, Jesse heard Ana say, “Sounds like the cavalry’s here.”

“You bet!” Lena said, yelling over Jesse’s shoulder. “I need some help getting things out of the car, though. And did I park in the right spot?”

Knowing what would be asked of him before Ana’s voice could carry, Jesse gave her a mock sigh of annoyance and followed her out. “Sorry about the compost bins,” he added as they passed it.

“I mean, they smell right foul,” Lena agreed. “But they’re not so bad. For a good cause and all.”

Jesse nodded. “Some of the fresh food scraps go to Junkertown – that’s where the animals are. Most of it goes out as fertilizer for the fields. Now, which car is yours?”

Rolling her eyes, Lena pointed to the car in the spot just in front of them. “I figured the big rainbow ‘V’s were fair game,” she said. “But it don’t hurt to ask.”

“No,” Jesse agreed. He tried not to look too closely at the wooden label on the spot next to hers; it still bore Hanzo’s pattern, two blue dragons similar to the blue-and-green _ oroboros _ pattern of North Wind’s logo. “Are you the ‘Guest’ I’m supposed to be working with?”

Lena smiled brightly. “Yup! So the faster we get everything unloaded, the faster we can get working!”

“Get everything unloaded” turned out to mean large bags of specialty flour and sugar that needed to be hauled into the Base kitchen and large crates of…other things Jesse wasn’t familiar with. As they worked, Lena breathlessly explained that Amélie had grudgingly let her go work at the new South Winds so long as she was able to train their new pastry chef down at Kings Row to take her place. Amélie had been very reluctant to let her go and an odd expression crossed Lena’s face at that, but they both knew that the move would be better for Lena’s career and so Amélie approved it.

Working with Lena was exhausting but they managed to churn out crepes and pancakes for everyone's breakfast. She was scandalized to learn that they didn’t create them to order, just gave the volunteers plates of premade stuff and let them assemble their plates themselves, but once she saw the volume of people they fed she calmed down.

She wasn’t Hanzo in the kitchen and the realization made his chest hurt and he paused for a moment to let the pain fade. Lena was loud, boisterous, and laughed often. Like Hanzo she was precise and a perfectionist but her demeanor was more playful than the times he had wheedled Hanzo to let him help cook.

Most importantly, Lena  _ wasn’t Hanzo _ so he couldn’t crowd into her space and let her use his hands as marionettes, showing him how to cut or use a candy thermometer or make infused syrups. They couldn’t trade sticky kisses and flour handprints.

“Hey,” Lena said brightly, nudging him with a hip. “No sad thoughts; you’ll ruin the food!”

Startled out of his thoughts, Jesse blinked at her. “What?”

Lena smiled. “Well, everything’s composed of energy.”

“Atoms,” Jesse corrected. He wheezed when she elbowed him in the gut.

“Everything’s composed of  _ energy _ ,” Lena said with emphasis. “And these energies all affect one another. Follow?” Jesse nodded before she could hip-check him again. “Well, good energy and food makes the food taste good but bad energy makes the food taste flat. So if you’re thinking happy thoughts when you’re cooking, you get happy food.”

Jesse looked away. Lena, it seems, trusted him with a knife; especially since it was difficult to cut himself if he used it in his right hand. He continued to slice bell peppers though for what purpose he wasn’t sure. “I wasn’t thinking unhappy thoughts.”

“You’re going to get resin in the food,” Lena pointed out. “Get it? Because you’re  _ pining _ ?”

It was such a corny joke and Jesse had to laugh despite himself. “I think I’m entitled to a little bit of pining,” he pointed out a little bitterly.

“Not on your birthday,” Lena protested. “Just think happy thoughts. The world doesn’t revolve around Hanzo, as much as it may feel.” With a tiny hand, she squeezed his flesh wrist. “Believe me,” she added quietly. “I know.”

Jesse shook his head and tried his best to obey but even though he had what felt like a lifetime of memories of Ana, Fareeha, Jack, and Gabe and less than a year of memories with Hanzo, it seemed like any happiness he had ever found was with the other man.

He buried it all beneath a fake smile for Lena. Happiness didn’t have to come painlessly, after all.

When the breakfast rush was over, he learned how to bake from Lena. He was tickled to learn that he was making his own birthday cake, though less excited when he learned how many specialty instruments he had to fetch from Lena’s car.

(He learned later that she actually didn’t need them, having learned a lifetime of cooking and baking hacks to not have to even look at them, but the truly horrifying set of tools was a gift from Amélie to show that she supported Lena’s decision.)

The cake took forever. Most of the planning was done, which was why Lena was so loaded up on gear when she showed up but the baking and assembly time was simply ridiculous. He was pleased and embarrassed when she told him that she had already met with “interested parties” to hear about the design for his cake, which is why she was so prepared. The reveal was worth the imagined embarrassment, though, and the finished product was even better.

Somehow Lena had managed to find a cake pedestal with a pattern that looked like wooden flooring. The first two layers of cake, which Jesse got to choose, formed the main portion of it and were decked in brown gingham around the sides in fondant. Who knew that fancy stuff was just a bizarre mixture of marshmallow and food coloring?

How Lena managed to make a gingham pattern in what was essentially edible Play-Doh was beyond him and she didn’t seem too inclined to tell him. He knew something was up since she kept checking the clock but let her have her secrets.

Together they formed a brown leather belt and Lena pulled out edible gold paint and deftly recreated Jesse’s BAMF buckle, something that would surely horrify Gabe if –  _ when _ – he saw it.

Layered over the gingham base was a plain kerchief formed of fondant rolled so thin that Jesse was afraid that if he breathed on it, it would break. Lena laughed as she cut the shapes and draped over the top of the cake and she seemed so within her element that Jesse’s breath was taken away.

They tucked the cake in the refrigerator – so it wouldn’t melt, Lena explained – and began making the second layer. With hands smeared with butter, they formed puffed rice treats into a Stetson and covered it with fondant. Jesse watched in amazement as Lena formed a curled brim and expertly made it come to life.

If Jesse hadn’t helped lay the fondant, he would have thought it was real.

To his delight, Lena showed him how to craft the bullets and badge to mimic the ones he had on the hat the Lucio, Hana, and Bastian gave him for Christmas. After hours of work, the cake was finally done.

Jesse was amazed at how tired he was and that Lena wasn’t similarly ready to collapse. She shooed him away, told him to take a nap –  _ in the Barracks, nowhere else, cowboy!  _ – while she cleaned up the mess they  had made of the kitchen. Shaking his head and knowing that he was being played for Something Big, he obeyed.

It seemed like only a few minutes later that Angela shook him awake. “Shouldn’t you be at the Diner?” he asked her blearily as he blinked up at her.

“We need the water,” Angela said to someone over the back of the couch.

He heard the bucket approaching and leaped to his feet – he didn’t want to be the one to explain that the couch was ruined again because he’d probably be blamed for it. 

Jesse let Angela fuss over him, though he couldn’t imagine why she would bother. He let her bully him into taking his prosthetic off to shower – something he did already as he didn’t trust the exposed joints to not eat his hair – to clean and wax. Once he passed her inspection, he let her bully him (again) into a nice pair of slacks and a button-down shirt, both of which were suspiciously steamed and pressed by a hand other than Angela’s. She fussed with his hair, drying it and then trying her best to style it. 

His suspicions, which would remain unspoken for fear of being smacked in the head, rose when Fareeha and Zarya burst into the room and helped her. Zarya curled her large bulk on the ground and with the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration, began polishing his shoes with a small kit she brought with her. Fareeha finished working on the arm and helped him to attach it even though he hadn’t needed the assistance since he had gotten it.   
Angela finally settled on something and braided his hair over the curve of his ear and then tied it all into a horsetail behind his head. The weight was off, though, and something dangled down his back and he reached for it until Angela slapped his hands away and gave him a mirror to see the hair tie.

It was a ribbon that could have passed for a tie in length with tapered tips. Dragons embroidered in yellow and metallic gold thread chased each other on a field of dark red with maroon chrysanthemums.

“Ange,” Jesse said hesitantly. “What’s all this for?”

The three women in his room adamantly shook their heads though Angela’s smile was watery. “It’s your birthday,” Zarya said simply. Her tone made it clear that the subject was closed and Jesse didn’t bother hiding his sigh.

“It’s a surprise,” Fareeha said and patted his arm.

None of this made him any less nervous or suspicious.

Angela checked her phone for the time and swore to herself. “Come on, we’re going to be late!”   
“Ain’t my fault,” Jesse muttered and winced when Zarya punched him in the arm. She handed him the shoes and he wobbled as he slipped them on as she intended him to.

“Too slow,” she grunted and quickly tied them for him while he stood there awkwardly. “You’re ready. Go!”

Fareeha tugged his arm toward the door. “He doesn’t know where to go,” she argued. “And the dust will ruin all of the work we just did.”

“He’s  _ always _ dusty,” Angela argued as she pushed him firmly out the door. “It’s nothing new.”   
Behind him, Zarya grunted. “Lucio and Hana have lint rollers,” she said gruffly. When he looked over his shoulder, she was squinting down at her phone which lay dwarfed in her massive hands. “And they have brushes to get rid of dust.”

“Good enough,” Angela said. “Come on!”

He let himself be tugged (not that he had fought it before) and found himself half-jogging after them. “Wait!” Zarya said. “Where is belt?”

It was an uncomfortable sensation to have most of the women in his life that he’d known since he was a child stare at his crotch.

Fareeha swore. “I saw it!” Angela said. “I’ll get it; meet you on the way.”

“Hurry!” Zarya boomed though Jesse wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or Angela. Regardless, he hurried down the stairs and to the main doors of the Barracks.

Much to his surprise, Hog and Jamie were waiting outside with a horse-drawn cart. It appeared to list to one side because of Hog’s great bulk but if the horse – a massive Clydesdale that Jesse thought was named Narnia – was too bothered, it gave no sign.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jamie said and whistled when he saw Jesse. “You clean up nice.”   
Hog’s big hand lifted and smacked Jamie upside the head. It was clearly a gentle hit, as Jamie only rolled his eyes. “Focus,” he said and slid out of the front seat. The horse shifted as the cart rocked but aside from that didn’t seem so perturbed by it.

“Get in,” Fareeha hissed and pushed him toward the back of the cart.

Jamie cocked his head to the side. “Wait, where’s his belt?”

“Stop staring at my dick,” Jesse grumbled and hesitantly climbed into the backseat of the cart. It was an open-air thing and lined with a soft blanket that looked cleaner than he’d expect in such a rickety thing.

Fareeha huffed. “Angie’s getting it.”

From where he stood, Hog grunted. “Gonna be late.”

“Already late,” Jamie corrected.

“Not feeling this whole surprise thing,” Jesse muttered, unsurprised that this was ignored.   
The doors to the Barracks slammed open and Angela leaped out as if the building was on fire. “Here!” she said and nearly smacked Jesse in the face with the belt. The BAMF buckle Hanzo had given him for Christmas stared back at him when he looked down at it. “Put it on!” Angela said impatiently. “Jamie, go!”

Rolling his eyes, Jamie clicked his tongue at the Clydesdale. His ears flicked back then forward attentively and he tugged against the cart which began to move. “Jamie,” Jesse said when they were just out of earshot from the group of women and Hog. “What’s going on?”   
Jamie giggled. “I ain’t gonna be the one that ruins the surprise for ya, mate,” he said. “But I think you’ll like it if it’s any consolation.”

Unable to help himself, Jesse sighed. “It’s making me nervous,” he complained.

“Don’t blame ya,” Jamie said with a shrug. He glanced over at Jesse and nodded his head at the seat beside him. “If you’re careful, you can come up here if ya like.”

Jesse managed to wiggle himself over and sat with a sigh beside Jamie. They curved around the edge of base on the path they used for the pumpkin patches and hayrides. It offered a softer incline than the one they used for personnel runs and took them through the fields and on a back road to Junkertown.

“They mean well,” Jamie said at last. “They’re just…excited.”

“I won’t ask what the surprise is,” Jesse told him. “But I gotta say…I’m not feeling it.”   
Jamie giggled again. “I think you’ll like it,” he said. “Not too reassuring, but that’s that, I suppose.” He nudged Jesse’s elbow with one of his. “But…happy birthday, mate.”

The man’s excitement was infectious but unease still churned in his gut. Still, he tried his best to give a convincing smile. “Thanks.”

Narnia’s ears flicked and his head bobbed as he pulled the cart along at a brisk pace, almost the way Lucio did when he was listening to music. They sat in comfortable silence only broken by the heavy thuds of Narnia’s plate-sized hooves.

Jesse tried not to dwell on the strangeness of the day or the fact that Jamie didn’t handle the larger livestock unless it was to get milk or if he was doing a drive for a special occasion. He was typically paired with Queen, a large dappled horse with a snowy mane and tail and feathered hooves and not a Clydesdale like Narnia. Still, Narnia seemed to accept him so he supposed it was alright.

To his surprise, Gabe was standing at the edge of the road. Seeing them, he checked the road and stopped traffic to let them turn out into the street before hopping on his ATV and driving off into the fields.

“That was creepy,” Jamie commented and clicked his tongue at Narnia who picked up his pace. His head bobbed and wiggled and his tail flicked though if the bugs he flicked them at were real or imaginary, Jesse couldn’t tell. “But he’s always been a weird sort.”

“He looked grumpy,” Jesse commented.

Jamie shrugged and said nothing. He checked the ancient watch on his wrist and made a face. Turning back to the front, he clicked his tongue again and flicked the reins gently. Narnia snorted audibly but picked up the pace again into a gentle trot. “Running a little late,” he explained. “Ah, here we are.”

Looking forward, Jesse frowned as Base came up again on their left; on their right was South Wind and if he didn’t know better, it seemed like the lights were on despite it still being months away from opening. Jamie turned Narnia into the driveway of the restaurant, letting him slow down on the gravel road as the Clydesdale tugged them up the slight incline.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Jesse muttered to Jamie who giggled.

“No worries, mate,” Jamie said as he directed Narnia around so he could drop Jesse off in front of the main doors. “You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

Jesse stared at him for a few seconds and shook his head. “Not making me feel much better,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry,” Jamie murmured back, quietly. “It’ll be fine. Promise, mate.”

Jesse offered a shaky smile and Jamie gave him a thumbs-up and a wink. Nervously he climbed out of the cart and walked to the front doors.

“Welcome!” Hana said excitedly, bouncing on her curved prosthetic legs. “Happy birthday, daddy-o!” She threw herself at Jesse and hugged him tightly.

Behind her, Lucio smiled. They were both dressed in immaculate suits with coats that had long tails that fluttered behind them. “Welcome to South Wind,” he said, his voice professional though his eyes twinkled with good humor. “If you’ll follow us, we’ll take you to your seat.”

“What’s all this?” Jesse asked suspiciously as Hana bounced in his arms.

“Hana,” Lucio said with mock impatience. “You’ll get him all messed up!”

The girl squealed and backed up, looking him up and down critically. “Good!” she exclaimed as she looked up at Jesse. “You clean up nice, cowboy!”

“Thank you,” Jesse said dryly.

She tugged at his hands. “Come on! You’re already late!”

“Hana,” Lucio said teasingly. “That’s not way to treat our guest.”

“Screw that!” Hana replied with a giggle. To Jesse, she said as she tugged his hand, “Come on! Let’s go!”

Rolling his eyes playfully, he let them lead him to the elevator, whose interior was still covered in protective plastic. Its floor was half-finished and he pursed his lips though Lucio and Hana were fearless as they bounced inside. “Are you sure this works?”

“We’ve been riding it all day!” Hana said brightly. “It’s fine!”

Lucio snorted. “It’s just detailing left,” he said as he punched the button labelled ROTUNDA. “It wouldn’t even be here if Genji wasn’t so extra.”

“Then how else would Bastian get up there?” Hana asked as the elevator began to rise smoothly. “And if he was so extra, then it would be a glass elevator on the outside, not one in the middle!” The elevator ride was short and smooth, enough that Jesse was honestly surprised when the doors opened to reveal the Rotunda.

Obviously he had little say with what happened at South Wind, but he was at least a little aware of what was going on with the building since Hanzo had been in charge of it before he left. The restaurant itself was primarily composed of two major portions: the lower level and the Rotunda, which rose twenty or thirty feet in the air and offered a larger view of Base and the surrounding fields. It reminded Jesse of pictures he had seen of the Space Needle in Seattle, a circular platform with windows all around though obviously much closer to the ground.

And in New Jersey.

To keep up with coding and safety standards as well as to prevent the project from costing many times more than it already had, the Rotunda was much smaller and held less than twenty two-person tables. There was a service station and two large dumbwaiters that would carry the food and plates up and down so the servers wouldn’t have to.

“I didn’t realize this was done,” Jesse breathed as he walked to one of the polished glass windows.

“Yup!” Hana said brightly as she bounced along beside him. “And let me tell you, the windows were a  _ pain _ to clean but it was worth it.”

Base was haloed by the setting sun, the Barracks just barely visible behind it from that angle. The fields shone in the golden light and rippled with the gentle summer breezes. It was one thing to see it at eye-level and another to see it from the Rotunda.

“In some ways it’s prettier like this than it would have been with flowers,” Hana said. Then she turned and smiled brightly up at Jesse. “Come on! Let’s get you seated. We’re on a tight schedule, daddy-o.”

Laughing, Jesse let her tug him to a table – the only table set up, really, as the rest of them were piled behind the elevator, presumably so they wouldn’t block his view. They had chosen a spot such that he was able to see both Base and a portion of the fields but the setting sun was blocked from shining directly into his eyes.

“Clever,” he said as he sat and Hana beamed.

Lucio came back from wherever he had wandered to – it must have been the dumbwaiter because he had a tray held carefully in his hands. “Your first appetizer this evening,” he said with a mocking accent. “Hana?”

The girl bounced excitedly and clapped her hands. “I’ve been practicing,” she explained to Jesse. She sobered comically, tucking an arm behind her back as she cleared her throat into the other. It was all so comical that Jesse had to smile. “This evening your first appetizer will be ratatouille, made with zucchini, yellow squash, eggplants, and tomatoes from our summer harvest,” she said so seriously that it was hard for Jesse to hold back a laugh. “All of the herbs, fruits, and vegetables from the dishes you will be served this evening are grown on-site. If you have any questions about them, please feel free to ask myself or Lucio.” She paused for exactly two seconds before brightening and bouncing on her prosthetics again. “Well? How did I do?”

The other man shook his head as he placed the small dish in front of Jesse. “Marvelous,” he said with an impish twinkle in his eyes. “Very professional.”

“Thank you,” Jesse said with the gravity it deserved and then winked at Hana. “I think you have a career here.”

Hana squealed and bounced away as Lucio shook his head with a smile. “Let us know if you need anything,” he said and wandered after Hana with a wave.

He was left alone with his thoughts and a very small plate of food. It made him wonder how many courses Genji would subject him to – and it was clearly him because Ana didn’t make individual plates as pretty as the professional chef did.

Unsurprisingly it was very good and was, strangely enough, reminiscent of Ana’s ratatouille though to his knowledge she had never taught Genji how to make it. But then, he didn’t know much about cooking so perhaps it could be a universal taste and preparation.

The next appetizer, which Hana brought out, was announced as a goat cheese croquette with a strawberry compote and sautéed endive and fennel. Lucio brought out a glass of wine to go with it, but Jesse was distracted by the plate itself: the croquette formed the bulb of a flower and the fennel and endive were cut to emulate the petals of a sunflower with the reddish syrup of the strawberry compote pooled in the curves of the leaves to give it color.

Jesse choked up. It had been one of the proposed plates that Hanzo had presented him with Genji at Christmas and the memory pressed like a possessive hand around his neck.

It took him a few minutes to work up the courage to eat it. Unsurprisingly it was delicious but he couldn’t break the image of it in his mind. All too soon he was done and Hana was bringing out another plate.

“I should have taken a picture,” he lamented.

“Don’t worry,” she said brightly. “I have a bunch!”

Jesse smiled up at her as she switched his empty plate for a shallow metal bowl. “The name of this dish is ‘Not Meant for Greatness’,” Lucio said with a wide grin that Jesse matched when he heard the name. “Our chef was not impressed with any of the suggestions he had received in terms of plating it – or the suggestion that he avoid making it because it couldn’t be turned into something pretty. So this is a big middle finger to those who tried to talk him out of it. It is a warm Indian  _ phall _ , or curry, which originated in Indian restaurants in the UK.  _ Phall _ tends to be much spicier than other forms of curry but this form, while made with some of the hottest peppers we have on the farm, is also tempered with sweet dried  _ guajillo _ peppers that are also made and treated here.”

Impressed, Jesse couldn’t help but whistle. “Quite a mouthful there.”

Hana giggled and returned from the dumbwaiter with a short glass with what looked like a strawberry milkshake. “Served with strawberry  _ lassi _ . In this particular cup, everything was produced by the farm, including the milk and yogurt.”

“Very professional,” Jesse teased. They left him alone again to eat and feeling inordinately lonely, he did so. As Lucio had said, it was very spicy but not as painful as he had expected it to be.

Once more, he was surprised and incredibly disappointed to find that it was gone.

“Last appetizer,” Lucio said as Hana brought a plate over and he carried a bottle of wine and a glass that had the dragon- _ oroboros _ symbol of the restaurant. “Then two main courses and a dessert.”

Jesse couldn’t help but groan.

“Don’t worry!” Hana said brightly. “The dishes are made so you won’t be too full at the end of it.” She carefully put the next plate in front of him. “Spaghetti with homemade meatballs,” she said brightly. “Not actually spaghetti, though it’s…tag…tagli…”

“Tagliatelle,” Lucio said helpfully.

“Yeah, that!” Hana said with a bright smile up at the older man. “The pasta is house-made and the sauce and herbs are once more made from produce at the farm. The meatballs are a mix of veal, pork, and beef, mixed with herbs, homemade bread crumbs, and teriyaki sauce to give it a hint of sweetness.”

Jesse’s brows rose. “Teriyaki meatballs in spaghetti?” he asked a bit incredulously.

His servers giggled. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Lucio told him, clapped him on the shoulder, and ushered Hana away.

The restaurant was eerily silent, no doubt due to its not-quite-finished state. It was working and livable (as much as a restaurant could be livable) but some of the details, like the ambient music, weren’t quite ready yet.

It almost made Jesse uncomfortable, but he could hear Lucio and Hana whispering quietly to each other and the soft sound of the mechanisms in the dumbwaiters as they moved. Still, the mere sound of his own chewing was beginning to grate on his nerves and the fact that he was so isolated was disturbing.

As if he could read his mind across the Rotunda, he heard the soft sound of music, no doubt from Lucio who always seemed to have some kind of speaker or headset handy. It was soft but it was just enough to fill the unnerving void of silence as he ate.

“Why don’t you join me?” Jesse asked when Hana and Lucio came to collect his appetizer and deliver his first entrée.

Hana shook her head. “It’ll ruin the surprise,” she said with an impish smile. She took his plates and bounced away, the curve of her prosthetics giving her an extra bounce that made the plates and cutlery rattle.

“Trust us,” Lucio said quietly as he placed the next plate in front of Jesse. “This will be a bit of a tricky one. We have a vegetarian dish as your first entrée: cauliflower steak with a vegetarian mushroom ragu.”

“Is the cauliflower local?” he teased. “What about the mushrooms?”

Lucio made a face at him. “Come on, man.”

“It’s a serious concern,” Jesse replied. “I need to know exactly where my vegetables come from. What breed and strain are they? How is it prepared? What was the name of the person that picked my cauliflower? Do you use safe practices when selecting your mushrooms? What are their growth conditions?”

The man’s loud, playfully exasperated groan attracted Hana’s attention. They could hear her laugh across the Rotunda. Lucio made a rude gesture at him, stuck his tongue out, and walked away. “I ain’t getting your alcohol!” he called over his shoulder.

“Come on!” Jesse protested. “Don’t make me leave a Yelp review!”

“Awkward,” someone said behind him and he nearly jumped out of his seat. It was only Rishi, who had a pitcher in his hands. Instead of ice, there were frozen pieces of fruit floating in the pinkish liquid. “The pitcher missed the dumbwaiter – it’s a watermelon martini but it can be served in a high-ball glass which I personally prefer,” he explained though Jesse didn’t ask, and he expertly poured him a glass. “So I volunteered to bring it up. How is your dinner so far?”   
Jesse grinned at the other man. “Fantastic,” he said. “Though my servers leave much to be desired.”

They could both hear the raspberry Hana blew from wherever she and Lucio were hiding. “I’m glad to hear that,” Rishi said mildly, a smile lighting up his somber face. “And I will pass on your concerns regarding your servers. Unfortunately we are short-staffed and cannot have them switched out at this time, but we can certainly terminate their positions.”

“Hey!” Hana yelled from somewhere by the elevators. “No fair!”

Lucio’s relieved laughter echoed. “Our savior!”

“You volunteered for this,” Rishi reminded them. He turned back to Jesse. “Are you enjoying your dinner?”

“My compliments to the chef,” Jesse teased. “Tell that man of yours everything’s amazing. Though I’m not sure I’d have picked teriyaki meatballs to pair with marinara sauce myself but it was surprisingly good.”

“ _ Told you _ !” came Hana’s disembodied voice which they both ignored.

Rishi smiled. “I’m not sure what good it will be to tell Genji, but I will do as you ask.”

It was an odd thing to say and Jesse mulled it over as Rishi walked away. He had disappeared before Jesse could figure out how to respond so he carefully considered the words as he ate.   
In the end, he decided that Rishi was just being…well, Rishi and let it fall out of his mind. In the meantime, he had finished another plate and couldn’t for the love of him remember much of it.

As if summoned by magic, Lucio and Hana appeared to take away his plate and bring another one. He was almost disgusted to learn that it was a platter, as the previous courses were beginning to catch up to him. The tray was separated into two large plates, which Lucio and Hana both struggled to carry over. They waved off Jesse’s help but made the table shake a little as they set it down.

Each tray was separated into shallow wells that kept the sauce from mixing or sliding off the edge of the board. Half of Lucio’s tray had sides: a small bowl of mac and cheese, collard greens, and a hunk of what appeared to be cornbread.

There were little samples of what seemed like dozens of meats, and with a saucy wink, Hana handed a map of the meats before darting away. It must have been an old copy from an earlier planning phase because it was written in Hanzo’s immaculate handwriting.

Or perhaps it was another’s and it was just wishful thinking on Jesse’s part.

Dutifully, knowing that he was probably also a guinea pig for this, he tried a little of everything there. Slices of Chinese glazed duck, yogurt-marinated lamb, marinated beef with a chimichurri sauce, dry rubbed steaks, and a small section of cured meats. There were ribs of various kinds and something called  _ bulgogi  _ that Jesse devoured in its entirety as soon as he got the flavor for it. He followed the arrows on the map and ate the dishes in order as they increased in richness and spice.

It was far too fancy for him and he was sort of glad when it was over, and not only because he felt like a sausage casing about to burst – to use a food metaphor. His favorite, aside from the  _ bulgogi, _ was a set of small dumplings: steamed, fried, and one set wrapped in sweet bread rather than a wonton wrapper, each with pork, chicken, and beef fillings.

“Is it over yet?” he asked Lucio plaintively and the other man laughed.

Hana slapped his shoulder. “Only dessert left. And don’t be ungrateful!”

Jesse groaned mockingly. “I feel like I’m going to burst!”

“Ready yourself, cowboy,” Lucio said gravely as he hefted the trays up. Hana poured Jesse another full glass from the pitcher, which didn’t reassure him.

“I need to pee,” Jesse told Lucio who rolled his eyes. Hana made a face. “And is the dessert going to be the cake I made? Because I already had some of that and I’m fine to skip it.”   
Hana shooed him out of his chair. “Go!” she said imperiously.

“While I’m gone, give my compliments to the chef,” Jesse said as he got to his feet with a groan. “But tell him that goddamn that was too much food for one sitting.”

Lucio showed him where the bathrooms were and he spent some time in there, using the facilities and washing his face and hands thoroughly as some of the sticky sauce from the last platter still clung to the skin around his cuticles.

He looked strange in the mirror, all prettied up. Miraculously he hadn’t spilled anything on his neatly-pressed clothes or if he had it wasn’t visible just yet. He had a slight flush on his cheeks, but that was unsurprising given the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

But since Hanzo had left, his tolerance had dramatically increased and despite the flush, he was fine…relatively.

Gathering his courage – and the little space left in his stomach – he went to face his last course and found Lucio waiting suspiciously outside of the bathroom for him. “Y’know…” he said.

“I know,” Lucio replied. “But man, you gotta trust me on this.”

“I trusted you for this,” Jesse pointed out. “And now I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Lucio rolled his eyes and unexpectedly grabbed Jesse’s shoulders. “But for real,” he said quietly. “Trust me. Okay?”

For a moment Jesse considered the other man. Lucio was friendly – there was no denying it – but he wasn’t always a touchy kind of guy. In some ways – in terms of touch, really – he was rather shy. So that Lucio was so touchy with him now only served to confuse Jesse…and convince him that Lucio was very serious about what he said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked quietly.

Lucio’s smile was brilliant. “Come on,” he said and gestured for Jesse to go ahead of him. Hana pulled Jesse’s seat out for him and with a heavy sigh he sat down.

“We didn’t tell the chef,” Hana said glibly. “Because you can tell him yourself. He’s delivering the dessert.” Waving and giggling, she darted off to the elevator whose doors waited open. Lucio shot him a thumbs-up before following and closing the doors behind them.

By then the moon was beginning to rise, casing a heavy silver shroud over the tops of the fields around him. In the void left by the sun, there was only the glow of the lights around Base and the Barracks.

He didn’t hear the door to the stairway open and close, or the sound of footsteps behind him just as he hadn’t when Rishi had walked upstairs, but there was a slight rattle as someone came up behind him and placed a shallow dish in front of him. As he was opening his mouth to tease Genji, he caught sight of the hand in front of him.

More importantly, the  _ Ofelias _ sunflower strain tattooed on it and the rough scratch of his own handwriting on a large wrist.

In his excitement, he nearly knocked over the table as he stood and whirled around. The small vase of flowers at the other end of the table fell over unnoticed, nearly spilling water in the dessert that was just placed in front of him.

All of his attention was on Hanzo where he stood haloed by the silver light of the rising moon.   


* * *

  
“Hi,” Hanzo said awkwardly, not quite looking at Jesse. “Hello,” he added, his eyes slipping off Jesse’s shoulder to settle somewhere in the space beside his right ear.

Jesse swallowed. “Hey.”

Silence fell between them, even more awkward than the lack of sound Jesse had noticed earlier. “I…hope you enjoyed dinner,” Hanzo said, once more proving to be the braver of the two. “Happy birthday.”

Almost before he could stop himself Jesse reached for Hanzo and paused, unsure of his welcome. “I…thank you.” He swallowed again. “That was you?”

“I planned it,” Hanzo said awkwardly. “The meal, that is. Everyone else…worked on the Rotunda.”

Jesse couldn’t pull his eyes from Hanzo if he had a gun pointed at his head. Suddenly, any compliments he had made “to the chef” seemed too hollow and trite; empty platitudes that neither of them would appreciate. He found he couldn’t say anything, too busy staring at his…at Hanzo.

He looked good. His skin was flush, a few shades darker than when Jesse had last seen him but that was to be expected – last he heard, Hanzo had spent a month with Hanami in the Middle East and Greece, chasing the flavors of Ana’s childhood and young adult life. But aside from that – and the new-ish tattoo on his hand and arm – he was just the same as ever.

Well, Jesse told himself that but after what felt like a lifetime of separation, he seemed even better. His eyes were nearly black, ochre and onyx and obsidian and all of those lovely dark names that somehow all seemed to start with “o”, the corners bearing wrinkles of laughter and stress. He still wore his undercut, the skin there as dark as his face as it had tanned with the rest of him. Hanzo had once told him that he had difficulty wearing a chef’s jacket and only really wore them for show as the pre-made sizes rarely fit him and he had no patience to go to a proper tailor and get them fixed, so now he stood in a soft v-neck shirt that showed his arms and wore a white canvas apron splattered with food stains. His name was embroidered in blue on the top hem and the blue-above-green dragon  _ oroboros _ that was the symbol of South Wind was emblazoned boldly at the center of his chest.

“Thank you,” Jesse said after a belated silence. “It was…amazing.” He winced – that seemed empty as well, but he was sure that Hanzo knew that he meant it.

He hoped.

Hanzo looked down at his hands that were tangled together in front of him. He looked shy and nervous – as shy and nervous as he had seemed when Jesse first met him. It drew his attention back to the flower on the back of his hand.

“Can…can I see it?” Jesse asked.

The other man started, his dark eyes flashing up at Jesse. A blush rose across his cheeks and he held out his right hand to Jesse. “I’m…sorry if it’s creepy,” he said softly. “But…”

“No,” Jesse said in a rush. “It’s…maybe but…I don’t think it is.” Hanzo’s hand was warm in his – almost burning, as if his body was trying to seal them together. The flower was brilliant, so perfectly rendered on his skin that Jesse could almost imagine reaching out and picking it up. The cuff of wording around Hanzo’s wrist took just as much attention and Jesse realized that his hands were shaking. He looked up at Hanzo who gently took back his hand and reached into the inner pocket of his apron, over his chest.

In it was a familiar box – a flat jewelry box the size of his palm – whose sides had bowed out slightly and whose corners had become rounder with time. There were scratches and some dirt on it, as if it had been constantly held close. Jesse swallowed.

“I got your letter,” Hanzo said quietly, not quite looking at Jesse once more. “And…the flowers.”

“Oh,” Jesse said awkwardly when he didn’t continue. He swallowed again. “I’m glad.”   
Hanzo’s dark eyes flicked up to meet his and then away. “I…did a lot of thinking. While I was away.”

“I’d love to hear about everything,” Jesse murmured. Something – jealousy, longing, something sticky and insidious – rose up into his throat. “You must have so many stories. Everyone would love to hear them.”

Something strange crossed Hanzo’s face that Jesse didn’t dare put a name to. “You don’t…hate me?”

Of all the things for him to say, Jesse hadn’t expected that and he reacted before he could think. “No!” he flinched, surprised at his own outburst; Hanzo flinched as well. “I…I wanted you to be happy.” He swallowed, trying to get rid of the sticky ball of emotion trapped high in his throat. “Were you?”

Hanzo very slowly looked up at him. He swallowed. “My father…had a condition to funding this trip,” he said at last. “I needed to make regular reports to him by email…and in person. He wanted to hear about everything I had seen from my own mouth…and…he wished to speak to me as a man and as his son.” Hanzo’s eyes flicked away and then, as if a compass needle drawn to a lodestone, back to Jesse’s face as though memorizing it – the same way Jesse had done to him. “He didn’t want me to make the same mistake that he did.”

They were both quiet for a moment as Hanzo gathered himself. Jesse reached up automatically then stopped, unsure of his welcome or whatever new boundaries may need to be set with Hanami in Hanzo’s life. He did his best to swallow the vitriolic acid that bubbled up in his chest.   
“I realized…that I wasn’t,” Hanzo said in a rush. “All of these places, the whole realization of my dreams, was somehow empty. All…all I could think about…” His eyes snapped to Jesse’s and an electric tingle of something raced down his spine. “‘What would the  _ sakura _ look like in Jesse’s hair?’” he said, nearly whispering now. “‘What would the sound of Jesse’s laugh be like in the halls of the Forgotten City?’ ‘What would a teacup look like in Jesse’s hands, or the leaves of a tea plant?’ ‘Would he like a spicy  _ phall _ or a  _ vindaloo _ ? Would I be laughing on the other side of the bathroom door when it upset his stomach?’ ‘What would he look like at the edge of a cliff overlooking the deep blue sea, or against the white stucco of Sardinian houses?’”

Jesse sucked in a quick breath, trying hard not to let hope rise.

“More than once my cousin told me that all she heard about was this ‘Jesse’. ‘Jesse, Jesse, Jesse – I feel like I never need to meet this man because I already know him!’” Hanzo blushed hotly and looked away as if embarrassed. “I owe her much for going with me…more so for putting up with my…pining.”

His words echoed in his head.  _ My cousin, my cousin, my cousin _ .

“Hanami?” he guessed.

Hanzo nodded, a blush on his cheeks. “Ueoka Hanami. A cousin on my mother’s side.” His eyes flicked up and the dawning realization there made Jesse blush in turn. “You thought…”

“I didn’t know what to think,” Jesse admitted, looking away. “And you smiled so much with her that…”

His hands were gripped tightly and Hanzo hesitantly tucked himself into Jesse’s space, resting his cheek on his collarbone. Just as slowly, Jesse wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s shoulders, opening his sides to allow Hanzo to wrap his arms tightly around his waist. His fingertips dug dime-sized bruises into Jesse’s back but it was a pain that he had no issue with.

“ _ Bakatare _ ,” Hanzo muttered into Jesse’s chest. “As if I could love anyone else but you.”   
Jesse sucked in a gulp of air, feeling lightheaded as if he had been punched. More, because it was an entirely different kind of punch. He peeled Hanzo back, tucking the thumb of his flesh hand under the regal curve of Hanzo’s jaw.

He could feel Hanzo shaking minutely in his hold, his fingertips digging harder, pressing bruises into the muscles lining his spine and the softer flesh of his lower back. “Is this…okay?” Hanzo asked softly, a tendril of nervousness seeping into his voice.

There were no words to describe his relief; he almost felt like he was about to cry – hell, he just might in a few minutes as everything processed. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Hanzo jolted in his arms, eyes widening as he looked up hesitantly into Jesse’s as he recognized the words that spurred one of their first kisses.

Jesse smiled as he picked up Hanzo’s right hand and flipped it over and pressed a feather-light kiss to the messy scrawl of his handwriting permanently pressed into the soft flesh of Hanzo’s wrist. “Are we gonna do this or what?” Hanzo choked out a laugh, tears rising in his eyes. “Look at all the love that we got, it ain’t ever gonna stop.”

Anything else Jesse would have thought to say was muffled as Hanzo leaped up to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter by any means so for that I apologize. 
> 
> For anyone interested, you can come and visit me on my tumblr [classywastelandbread](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com) where I post additional thoughts, deleted chapters, and bonus stories. 
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! I really appreciate you taking the time to do so! 
> 
> ~DC


	27. All I Have to Offer You is Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’ll be no mansions waiting on a hill with crystal chandeliers  
> And there’ll be no fancy clothes for you to wear  
> Everything I have is standing here in front for you to see  
> All I have to offer you is me
> 
> **Sweetheart I’ll give you all my love in every way I can  
>  But make sure that’s what you want while you’re still free**  
> The only gold I have for is in this wedding band  
> Cause all I have to offer you is me
> 
> ~ _All I Have to Offer You is Me_ by Charley Pride

Things did not immediately get better; they would be naïve to think otherwise.

Hanzo had returned, yes, but unsure of his welcome he had put himself up in a three-month lease at a nearby apartment building. He was still in the process of moving his things back from overseas which made Jesse beg the question of  _ how much stuff did he collect? _

Because Jesse had a very distinct memory of Hanzo only having a few bags with him when he first left on his adventure.

He got to meet Hanami Ueoka, who he learned was only in her early twenties. She had been sent by her family – related to Hanzo by some strange convoluted chain of people – because they were concerned about her “worldliness” after she admitted to them that she had no interest in pursuing anything other than the family business. “The family business” for her, it turned out, was the care of a shrine on whose land the Shimada estate was built.

Hanami traveled with Hanzo back to the United States to make sure he got back alright and was scheduled to return after his three-month lease was up with or without him. She was excited to be in  _ Amerika _ , she told Jesse, and even more excited to meet a real-life cowboy.

Even if she knew  _ far too much _ about John Jesse McCree than she had ever wanted to know. Hanzo turned bright red; she looked smug.

As much as he wished he would, Hanzo made no mention of moving back into the Barracks but that was fine because no one quite knew what to make of their resumed relationship. They tried to hold an intervention for him and remind him of all the heartbreak and trouble Hanzo had caused him which only served to strain  _ all _ of their relationships.

That night Jesse slept over at Hanzo and Hanami’s apartment, which in itself was a very strange thing because of his cousin’s presence and he found himself sleeping in Hanzo’s bed while he took the couch.

Things didn’t even get better  _ slowly _ .

Zarya and Hanzo had a strange relationship where Zarya wasn’t sure if she should be congratulating him for his Redemption win or punching him for causing Jesse so much heartbreak; Hanzo simply didn’t know how to deal with the massive Russian woman and made sure that Jesse or Ana were present to keep her from actually killing him.

Fareeha tried to outright pick a fight with him when Jesse was on field duty. She was foiled by Hanami who was a black belt in some obscure martial art and who was, despite only knowing of his existence for less than a year, very protective of Hanzo. Genji and Hanzo weren’t happy that their very brief fight knocked over two tables, and even less happy when they needed to take Fareeha to Watchpoint to make sure her nose wasn’t broken.

While Orisa hovered threateningly over Fareeha, Mei threw herself at Hanzo for an excited – if sleepy – hug. Pums was also there and as soon as Mei was out of the way, gave Hanzo a fierce backhand that made everyone wince. He spat out a mouthful of blood and was forced to sit next to Fareeha on the exam table, gagged with gauze, while Athena checked them over to make sure their injuries were only minor.

The next morning, Hanzo’s face was swollen and the inside of his cheek were Pums had slapped him was still tender, Fareeha had a magnificent black eye but miraculously no broken nose, and Hanami was annoyingly uninjured. Ana threatened to beat all three of them with a wooden spoon until it broke and they all made themselves scarce around Base and the Barracks. Hanzo made up with Fareeha when they both decided to hide in Greenhouse 2 among Jesse’s  _ Ofelias _ though Fareeha of course made the obligatory threats that if he hurts Jesse –  _ again _ – she would actually kill him.

Hanzo solemnly promised that if that happened, he’d make sure Hanami was nowhere nearby to stop her.

Final construction – really just the detail work as Hana and Lucio said – finished at South Wind but Hanzo and Genji debated about postponing opening it for a few months to let the holidays get out of the way. They decided to have a soft opening to test their staff and menu.

Jesse learned later that night that it was the first time that the brothers had cooked on the line together pretty much ever though they had been in the same kitchen as the other before.

As a treat for Zarya, he recreated his Redemption dishes. It didn’t necessarily win her over, but it was a large step forward.

September slid into October. Hanzo volunteered South Wind and himself for the starting area for hay rides and spent hours with Hanami’s reluctant assistance making spiced apple and pumpkin ciders, pies, and other pastries. Genji put him in contact with Lena and with her help they pumped out warm food to be sold out the open windows of the restaurant while people waited for the rides.

Ana got a quite frankly  _ adorable  _ picture of Jesse leaning in through one of the windows, having jumped from the wagon he had been in charge of, to receive a quick kiss and a small bag of treats from Hanzo. In the background, Hanami was making disgusted faces and Lena was obliviously ladling out cider. 

Halloween rolled around and the four of them did a group costume. Hanzo and Hanami were  _ oni _ , Japanese demon-ogres, and Jesse and Hana were the hunters sent after them. The  _ oni _ were incredibly secretive of their costumes so that it was a huge surprise when they revealed themselves to their “hunters”.

Hana squealed a touch too-loudly when she saw them and Jesse’s mouth went dry. He  _ shouldn’t _ find the blue-gray paint on Hanzo’s skin or the white contacts that washed out his eyes attractive; he shouldn’t want to grip those curved horns that rose from his forehead and tangle his hands in Hanzo’s dark hair and tug it free of the silver-white ribbon holding it back…

He was glad that the paint didn’t sweat off or transfer or there would be smears all over him. (And the couch…and the bed sheets…and the walls…)

The other positive was that Hanzo needed some…assistance washing the paint off.

Ana hung a picture of the four of them in the Barracks next to the Wall of Calendars. The next day she unofficially awarded Hanami a small day calendar which hung next to Hanzo’s; she and Hana squealed and took a selfie next to it which they reportedly sent to Aimi.

It took about a month and a half after Hanzo returned for him to actually speak to Jack and Gabe. He had gone to drop Jesse off for an afternoon shift at Watchpoint when they less than metaphorically jumped him. Fortunately Orisa had been nearby and bodily lifted Gabe into the air by the back of his shirt like a kitten being scruffed; Satya, who had shyly emerged from the basement to say hi to Hanzo, kneed Jack in the balls and would have broken a broom over his back if Hanzo himself hadn’t stopped her swing. Hanzo of course didn’t opt to call the cops and Orisa scolded them in Yoruba while she wrapped Hanzo’s arm and showed him how to fashion a simple brace out of Ace bandages they found in an old supply closet. 

Gabe sat sullenly in the closet he had been locked in while Sombra heckled him in Spanish.

“I know what it must look like,” Jack muttered, holding an ice pack to his head and another to his groin. 

The door slammed open and Pums and Jesse stomped in. “Whose ass do I need to kick?” Pums snapped.

Jesse went to Hanzo and with his hands half extended as if to embrace him, looked him over. “What happened?”

“I fell,” Hanzo told him with a soft smile. “Sorry to worry you.”

Surprised, Jesse recoiled a bit. “Satya said something about a broom?”

“I tripped over it,” Hanzo explained. “And I fell down the stairs.”

Jesse looked suspicious. “Why is Gabe in the closet?”

“He won’t admit he’s gay,” Hanzo replied without skipping a beat. Sombra cackled and even Orisa and Jack chuckled though they tried to disguise it as a cough.

Snorting, Pums turned around. She jabbed a threatening finger at Jack – no words were necessary – and left. “If you need PT, find someone else,” she told Hanzo over her shoulder.

“Darlin’?” Jesse asked quietly.

Hanzo cradled Jesse’s cheek in his free hand. “I’m  _ fine _ ,” he assured Jesse quietly. “I’m sorrier to have worried you.”

Clearly Jesse wasn’t happy with that answer but he stopped questioning Hanzo when he was tugged into a gentle kiss. “If you say so,” he said reluctantly. He turned to Jack. “And what about  _ you _ ?”

“I’m too old for this,” Jack grumbled. When Jesse’s frown deepened, he sighed. “I tried to catch Hanzo when he fell?”

“You’re a shit liar,” Jesse snapped and Hanzo scratched the back of his neck reassuringly, tangling his fingers in the wispy hairs that escaped his hair tie. “And Gabe?”

“ _ I was in the closet the entire time, _ ” Gabe said, voice muffled by the doors of the cabinet. “ _ I saw nothing _ .”

Hanzo smiled softly when Jesse cast him a pleading glance. “It’s okay,” he murmured and kissed Jesse’s cheek sweetly. “Promise.”

“Why are you lyin’ to me, Han?” Jesse asked quietly, tucking his head.

“Because the alternative is worse,” Hanzo replied. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” Jesse looked sadly up at him but accepted another soft kiss. “Just trust me, okay?”

Quietly, Jesse nodded and shuffled out. “Dinner?” he suggested hesitantly.

“Dinner,” Hanzo agreed. “I’ll text you?” Jesse smiled though it didn’t quite reach his eyes and waved as he left.

“I hope you make it up to him,” Orisa told him from where she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.

“I’ll tell him the truth later,” Hanzo promised her. “After it all blows over.”

Sombra snorted. “That’s assuming it  _ does _ ,” she pointed out and he was surprised that she deigned to speak to him at all, much less in English.

“ _ Will you let me out now? _ ” Gabe demanded from the closet. “ _ My legs are cramping. _ ” Sombra said something to him in rapid-fire Spanish that had him growling. Rolling her eyes, Sombra glanced up at Orisa to make sure it was alright and then reached to turn the metal handle on the cabinet door…most of the way. “ _ Sombra! _ ” Gabe snarled. 

“Yeah, boss?”

“ _ The door! _ ”

Cackling, Sombra turned the handle the rest of the way and backed up to let him out. Though he was clearly older, Gabe was still a very large man. Not as large as Rein and Zarya who both seemed to be at least part-giant, but wide in the shoulders and thighs. He may not have been the tallest man Hanzo had ever seen (an honor reserved for Rein), but his cold confidence made him seem taller and more imposing. Watching him slowly uncurl from where Orisa had shoved him into the cabinet, Hanzo felt a brief tingle of fear zip up his spine that he hoped wasn’t obvious.

“What happens if you break his heart again?” he rumbled, getting up in Hanzo’s space. He shifted his stance immediately when Orisa approached and the nurse looked smug.

Point to Orisa.

“I sincerely hope I won’t,” Hanzo said.

Jack grunted. “Shit happens, Gabe.”

Growling, Gabe turned first to him and then to Orisa. “What are  _ you _ still doing here? This is a private conversation; get gone!”

“I’m making sure you don’t hurt my patient again,” Orisa replied, seeming in that moment to be as immovable as a brick wall. “I’m  _ not budging. _ ”

Gabe turned back to Hanzo. “I don’t know why you seem to think that we’ll  _ all _ just take you back with open arms. You don’t know what pain you put him through when you left;  _ we _ were left to pick up not only the pieces of  _ his _ heart but the pieces of  _ Hana’s _ !”

Very slowly, Hanzo sat up straighter, adjusting his stance to prevent twisting his bandaged arm too much. “I don’t,” he said coldly enough that Gabe recoiled a bit in surprise. “I  _ don’t _ expect  _ any _ of you to take me back, and I certainly hadn’t expected Jesse to.” He looked away suddenly. “Not that you can weigh one’s pain against another, but it wasn’t like I was the happiest away from him, either. It was miserable being separated from him and I can’t imagine how much it broke Hana’s heart.  I was selfish to think that they would be so quick to forget me and Hana was doing so good that it was easy to forget that last year she…that…Ha-Yun died. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for her…what she had to have thought when she blew out the candles on her cake and thought about how the last time she did that, Ha-Yun had been with her.”

Hanzo swallowed hard. “I was selfish and I will be the first to admit that…and I was operating under the impression that…that Jesse was far too good for someone like me. The first time I saw him, I thought I was dreaming. Once I got to know him, I  _ knew _ I had to have gone mad because there was no way that someone  _ so good _ existed in this world.” He laughed suddenly and Orisa wordlessly handed him a scratchy hospital-issue tissue. “Thank you. Shortly before I decided to come back, I spoke to my mother. She told me that I was silly – I am, I can see that now – because love…it isn’t about being  _ deserving _ of it. Love happens whether you want it to or not and another’s love for you is not something you can control.”

“Take your time,” Jack told him gently when he paused.

Orisa’s show of support was quieter, a gentle squeeze to his wrapped shoulder and a gentle nudge to the tissue box to bring it closer to him.

“Love isn’t something you  _ deserve _ ,” Hanzo said. “It’s not something you  _ earn _ …but it’s something that you can  _ work to deserve _ .”

“Be the person your dog thinks you are,” Sombra said and they all jumped, having forgotten that she was still in the room. “Be the person Jesse thinks you are.”

Hanzo nodded. “Be the person  _ Hana _ thinks I am,” he added quietly. “My father asked me what would make me happy and…all I could think about was Jesse. Half the time my thoughts abroad involved him – it drove Hanami crazy!”

“When you were wooing him you were all he talked about,” Jack grumbled. Seeing them all look at him incredulously, he snorted. “What? I stand by my word choice!”

Gabe grunted but it seemed far less aggressive. “Ignore him; continue.”

Hanzo looked down. “I know I don’t  _ deserve _ …anything he’s given me since I’ve come back. I didn’t  _ deserve _ you – any of you – giving me the chance to even do a little thing for his birthday. It just…that’s just the way it works. Will I ever break his heart again?” he looked up suddenly, meeting Gabe’s muddy eyes. “I hope I never do; it would break mine all over again.”

“You really love him,” Jack said wonderingly. He winced as he shifted and lifted the ice pack over his groin to peek at the condensed water there; he sighed and placed it back in its place with a wince.

“More than anything,” Hanzo promised.

Gabe grunted. “Good,” he said and stomped off. When they glanced at Sombra, she shrugged and trailed after him, as ever living up to her name.

Things got better after that.

Two and a half months after Hanzo returned, Ana handed him a key to the Barracks with a wink (or a blink...it was hard to tell with only one eye). Jesse and Hana’s faces lit up when the saw her place it on the table in front of him; Hanami rolled her eyes.

Moving in was easy when Hanzo had all of the Barracks to help. This time no one made any pretenses and moved him in with Jesse who received him happily. They received a “housewarming” gift of an album of pictures from Hanami and Genji which had, much like the last time Genji had done so, included pictures of Hanzo and Jesse in compromising positions.

As time moved on, they settled into a routine. Hanzo, Hana, Bastian, and Lucio were all added to the scheduling emails at the Farm, though Hana’s was always listed as “school” and Hanzo’s almost always said “hiding in the walk-in at South Wind”. Sometimes Ana or Jack (whichever was in charge of the scheduling that week) switched it up to things like “doing inappropriate things with the cowboy” or “actually doing work” but they were always (relatively) PG for Hana and always with well-meaning intent. 

(They knew that if Hana had not also been included on the email list, the suggestions of what Hanzo really was doing during the day would have been a lot more creative and vulgar...Hanzo wasn’t sure how he felt about that whether it was true or not.)

Bastian and Lucio worked with Pums who used some of the smaller fields at the Farm or the large garden at Watchpoint to assist with her PT. Hog and Jamie trained up animals - just a few goats, a few of Hog’s precious potbellies, and a few geese - for Pums to potentially use in therapy sessions. 

The idea of using geese came from Hana, surprisingly. Earlier in the fall, she had helped Hog and Jamie nurse an injured Canadian goose. It had hybridized with a Greylag they had on the farm and the resulting offspring flocked -  _ literally _ \- to Hana.

No one had the heart to mention to her what had happened to Angela’s late  _ Herr _ Cluck-Cluck and so made sure to have Hana’s small flock tagged. Dye washed off too quickly and they had no patience for it, but it had to do until they could get Hana to help them catch each and every one of her babies and attach a large metal band to one of their evil little legs. Most days they could find Hana completing her classes on her laptop in one of the patios by the Barracks (because her flock wasn’t allowed inside any of the buildings) while they milled around her. 

Because they were so friendly, her “babies” eventually went on trips to Watchpoint once she and Jamie had (mostly for laughs and to see if it was actually possible) taught them how to walk on leashes...and to listen to Pums when she was on the other end of the leash as well. 

Hanzo, unsurprisingly, spent most of his time at South Wind. He didn’t cook as much as he wanted to, as he was the primary owner and had other responsibilities, but he made sure to spend at least a little time on the line whenever he could. It meant that he often had late nights while he caught up with the work he put on the side to cook. Jesse was fine with that because work at the Farm wasn’t as everyone made it seem. Still, it was fantastic to come home to Hanzo and curl up with him in their bed. 

When he had initially come back, Hanzo had been amused to find the enormous pile of body pillows and stuffed animals that Jesse had acquired in his absence. The amusement had died when he realized the reason, but they still slept with far more pillows than were needed and a pile of stuffed animals on the ground and by his own admission Hanzo slept that much closer to Jesse in an effort to ensure that he didn’t wake up lonely anytime soon. 

The official opening of South Wind was an enormous success. With the current farm-to-table trend in the culinary world and the awards they had won for North Wind, Hanzo’s branch made headlines and became popular almost overnight. He did, of course, also have fans from  _ Chopped _ that came to see him and test his restaurant even though he didn’t actively advertise his Redemption win. It made Hanzo uncomfortable because he wasn’t  _ used _ to recognition for his work and art - Genji was always the person that received the credit, not  _ Hanzo _ . 

Time moved on, as it always did, and they all got used to their new life together. 

They still had movie nights and every Tuesday they all binge-watched  _ Chopped _ with the added bonus of turning it into a Q&A session for someone that had been on the show. Hanzo sometimes cooked meals for the Farm and occasionally taught recipes he had learned overseas to Ana, much to her delight. 

Jesse and Hanzo sometimes cooked together. Only simple things that Jesse couldn’t possibly ruin if Hanzo wasn’t giving him all of his attention. 

Sometimes they got distracted in the middle of cooking but could you blame them?

Those nights they ordered out. 

They fell back into their own orbit as if they hadn’t been separated for half a year but as the spring faded into summer, the air around the Barracks themselves changed. 

Hanzo woke up at some ungodly hour of the night or morning, startled awake by the presence of another next to him. Even though months had passed since their reunion, he still woke up some mornings (or nights) wondering if it was all just a wonderful dream. Jesse’s eyes glittered in the silver glow cast by the moonlight through the windows. He was smiling. 

“Did I wake you?” Jesse mumbled tiredly.

Shaking his head, Hanzo tucked himself closer to Jesse, wrapping his left arm around him. His chest hair tickled Hanzo’s nose and he closed his eyes to savor Jesse’s heat and smell so close. He tipped his head back for a kiss which Jesse provided. 

Now that they knew each other, the kiss wasn’t rushed. They didn’t make out like horny teenagers, afraid that if they blinked or slowed down the other would vanish. For them, the other had already vanished and they knew life without them; they no longer needed to feel fear. 

Hanzo let Jesse tuck him tighter against him, his whole arm slipping down to loop around the dip of his spine affectionately. The gentle brush of calloused fingers just under the waistband of his pajama pants brought a brief shiver to Hanzo but it wasn’t a sexual touch and he didn’t react except to smile into their gentle kiss. 

His farmer was sleepy and drifted off soon after, a slight smile on his lips and he released Hanzo just enough for him to pull back and watch his eyes droop closed again. Hanzo took in the details of Jesse’s sleeping face and felt something rise high into his throat. 

The next morning he asked Emily and Lena to meet him in town as discreetly as possible. Lena reminded him that she had to be at South Wind to make the pastries, but that she would keep whatever secret he chose to share with them; Emily pointed out that if he wanted discreet then he shouldn’t talk to Lena. 

Emily squealed when she saw that he had taken her into Princeton to a small jewelry shop. “Are you sure?” she asked. 

“More than anything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually funny story I had only ever heard this song by another artist [The Ka'au Crater Boys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1SpIk8RIHw). Originally this chapter didn't exist but I decided it needed a more definitive ending than what I had originally planned and I had happened to be looking this song up to listen to. Then it turns out that it was originally done by [Charley Pride](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIn_PyTC0Z4) and it had a much more interesting sound to it than what I had been used to growing up. So...I guess that's that. 
> 
> As this story is winding down, I'm going to be transitioning into working on my NaNoWriMo submission, which will probably take most of if not the whole month of November. On the other hand, I will probably post random blurbs and thoughts I had on my tumblr classywastelandbread so if you want to keep up with some of the news of what's going on with this you will (probably) be able to find it there.
> 
> I know I say this all the time, but for realsies, thank you to everyone that has stuck around for these two emotionally stunted idiots and their hot mess. Thank you also to everyone that has left comments and kudos...I really do enjoy reading all of them and I get so excited when I see that AO3 sent me a notice about a comment posted. Thank you!! :D  
> ~DC


	28. Greatest Love Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse shrieked when Fareeha pulled back his hat and poured a glass of water over his face. “Ree!” he complained, sloughing off the water with one hand and using his other to push back his long bangs.
> 
> “You’re sweaty and gross,” Fareeha informed him with a wicked grin. She folded herself into the seat beside him. “And you were snoring. Have a nice dream?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to be your forever  
> So baby will you be my wife  
> Now that we know a little better  
> We can have a real nice life  
> ‘Cause I’m what you wanted, you’re what I need   
> So let’s meet in between  
> We’re gonna be the greatest love story this town has ever seen  
> We’re gonna be the greatest love story this world has ever seen
> 
> So baby say yes to me
> 
> ~ _Greatest Love Story_ by LANco (Lancaster  & Company)

“ _ Love _ ,” Lena told him. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Hanzo hissed back. He kept his eyes on the knife as it furiously flew through a leek. Perfectly-sized rounds piled up beside him and he brushed it into a waiting colander to be washed of sand and grit.

Sighing, Lena slipped in beside him and began cleaning the one he just cut as Hanzo reached for the next. “The way you’re going we’ll have potato-leek soup for  _ months _ . And it’s our best-seller this season!”

“She’s right,” Emily said as she leaned through the service window. “You’re overreacting.”

“Don’t you have tables?” Hanzo asked her waspishly.

The redhead didn’t take it to heart, shrugging. “We’re not even open yet,” she pointed out.

“What if he says ‘no’?” Hanzo asked, deflating a little.

“He  _ won’t _ ,” Lena told him. “And you  _ know _ it, Hanzo.”

_ He already said ‘yes’ once, _ the logical part of his mind pointed out. He didn’t tell them this. “What if he changed his mind?” Hanzo asked instead and Lena looked at him strangely.

Emily rolled her eyes but it was fondly. “He won’t, you _ know _ he won’t, you’re just letting your nerves get to you.”

“How are you going to ask?” Lena asked. He had to give her credit for waiting so long even if it made him even more nervous.

“Trace!” Emily said, sounding scandalized.

Rolling her eyes, Lena dropped the drained colander of sliced leeks into the big stock pot on the stove where it began to sizzle. She had never been formally trained in baking much less cooking, but Hanzo found her incredibly useful for simple prep things – like soup - when she wasn’t in the bakery.

“I don’t know,” Hanzo admitted, shoving the chopped leeks off the edge of the cutting board where Lena caught them in the colander in her hands. “I think that’s enough.”

“ _ More _ than,” Emily said dryly. “And you haven’t even begun mashing the potatoes.”

“What does the ring look like?” Lena asked as she washed the next batch of leeks.

“ _ Lena! _ ”

For something to do, Hanzo washed the cutting board and his knife, then wiped down the station, the boards, and the spaces beneath it. He set up the station again and reached for the bin of broccoli florets from the greenhouse.

“No,” Emily said sternly to him. “We  _ don’t _ need any more soup.”

Hanzo glared at her and grabbed the first head of broccoli. “What are today’s specials?”

Rolling her eyes, Emily rattled them off as impeccable as ever; there was a reason she was his best server. “ _ Apparently _ I’m adding cheddar-broccoli and potato-leek soup to the specials as well.”

“Maybe you should cook for him,” Lena suggested with the air of someone that has just come to a great realization.

“Or take him out to dinner so you can enjoy it too,” Emily suggested.

Hanzo sighed as he briskly broke down the broccoli for the soup. “He has field duty this week,” he told them.

“You say that like you can’t hold on to the ring,” Emily said dryly.

He fidgeted. “What if he says ‘no’?”

Lena groaned.

* * *

Genji couldn’t be trusted with secrets like this, nor could Zarya or Fareeha. He didn’t want to talk to Ana about it, Jack was useless with giving advice (especially of the romantic nature), and Gabe would just be uncomfortable and probably run away the first chance he got.

As it was, Bastian and Lucio looked tired of his incessant questioning. “ _ Stop _ ,” Bastian said at last. “ _ Yes! _ ”

“What if he doesn’t?” Jesse fretted. The three of them were assigned to one of the smallest runs to see if Lucio and Bastian were cut out to work in the fields. Pums had suggested it as well, as it could potentially be a good exercise for some of her other PT patients in the area.

A few rows down the woman, lost in the sea of green, groaned. “ _ Come on! _ ” she exclaimed. “You  _ know _ he will.”

“But-”

“Man,” Lucio interrupted. “We love you but you gotta stop.  _ We _ know he’ll say ‘yes’;  _ you _ know he’ll say ‘yes’.”

“Has!” Bastian agreed.

Lucio gestured to Bastian as if to say  _ see? _ “He already agreed to it!”

Nervously, Jesse glanced toward the area he knew Pums was hiding. Her head popped through a moment later. “ _ What do you mean he already agreed to it? _ ” she demanded. “If he already agreed to it then why are you asking?”

Bastian snickered. “Ha-na,” he explained.

“Ugh!” Pums cried. “So you’re  _ already legally married _ and you’re worried he’s going to turn you down when you suggest having  _ an actual ceremony? _ ” she swore in Cantonese and disappeared back into the fields. “You already have your answer,” her disembodied voice said. “Stop whining!”

“Bag,” Bastian said and Jesse ducked through the rows to help him with his carry-sack. “Yes,” he told Jesse quietly and patted his arm. He had been getting better at speaking, but his jaw was still stiff and practice didn’t - and wouldn’t - improve the guttural sound of his voice. “Trust love!”

Jesse smiled at him and they returned to the field. “I’m still scared.”

“ _ Less whining more picking! _ ” Pums yelled.

“Pums has spoken,” Lucio said gravely.

Despite his worry and the incessant feel of impending doom – and the weight of the small box in his pocket – Jesse smiled.

* * *

“Have you ever thought about grandkids?” Jesse asked.

Hanzo frowned at him. “We hardly have  _ a _ child and you’re already thinking of  _ grandchildren _ ?”

“Who are you calling a child?” Hana protested. They pretended to ignore her.

“Just saying,” Jesse said defensively. “And would Bastian and Lucio count as our kids too?”

The other two men looked up at them. Though they clearly understood the teasing (both wore crooked smiles despite attempting to look serious) they pretended to object. “I’m pretty sure Bastian’s older than you,” Lucio pointed out.

“How old  _ are _ you?” Hana asked Bastian. He stuck out his half-missing tongue at her, something he very rarely did, and she giggled.

Jesse nodded sagely. “You’re right as always,” he told Hanzo and collected a kiss as a reward. “Have you thought about having  _ more _ kids?”

“Are you volunteering to become pregnant?” Hanzo asked dryly. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

Hana, Lucio, and Bastian protested loudly, covering their ears. “My virgin ears!” Hana squealed.

“Eew,” Bastian said simply. “Vom.” He rolled out of the room, throwing a rude gesture over his shoulder as he did so. Hana giggled.

“Gross,” Lucio agreed but made no move to leave as Bastian had.

Jesse ignored them. “I was thinking more of the four-legged variety.”

“We  _ could _ adopt Cat,” Hanzo suggested with a wicked grin.

“I was thinking more of the four-legged variety  _ and something that has a soul _ ,” Jesse said dryly.

Hana giggled. “Cat has a soul.”

“Cat is evil,” Jesse said, jabbing a finger at her with mock severity. “That thing is the spawn of the Devil!”

“Cat’s not so bad,” Hanzo told him, rolling his eyes. He nudged Jesse’s shoulder with his own. “But I think Genji would miss Cat and he might try to get another succulent.”

Jesse groaned. “He needs to stop.”

“You know he won’t.”

They all rolled their eyes. Genji killed cacti and they couldn’t talk him out of buying more. Rishi once reported gravely that they had to add a column to their budget not only for more succulents but also for the burial and memorial rites that Rishi deemed necessary for they lasted longer without Hanzo present to prolong their suffering. They had a memorial wall dedicated to the plants he’d killed and every time a new one was brought home Rishi took a picture of it and added it to the wall preemptively.

It was quickly becoming a problem.

...much like the weight of the small jewelry box in Jesse’s pocket. 

That night, Jesse tugged Hanzo closer, twining arms and legs around the other man. In the darkness of his –  _ their _ – room it felt more like a dream as he pressed his lips to the shaved sides of Hanzo’s head. “Darlin’?”

Hanzo mumbled sleepily and rolled over, tucking his face into the crook of Jesse’s neck. “Yes?”

He wiggled, tickled by Hanzo’s breath, before settling again and pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s forehead. “Remember that dream you had?”

“Mm?”

Jesse pressed a kiss to Hanzo’s hairline. “We had a house down the street,” he prompted.

“’N Hana n’ Bastian were downstairs,” Hanzo mumbled, his accent much stronger in his half-asleep state.

Smiling, Jesse ran his fingers through Hanzo’s hair and he hummed. “Lucio too. You’d come home...” he said leadingly.

“’N you’d be in the door,” Hanzo finished. Jesse felt his eyes flutter as he woke up further. “Why?”

Jesse dug into the pocket of his pajamas and tugged out the box that had been weighing him down all day. He pressed it into Hanzo’s chest until he reflexively brought his hand up to it. “I’d like to be your forever,” he murmured. “So baby will you be my life? ‘Cause now that we know a little better, we can have a real nice life.”

He watched Hanzo’s eyes flutter open, watched him tilt his head back and down to look at the small box that their tangled fingers held. His eyes were suddenly much more awake, much more alert, and Jesse watched with his heart in his throat.

Gently, Hanzo untangled himself and Jesse felt his heart sink. Hanzo twisted and reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a similar box which he pressed into Jesse’s hands. “I’m what you want and you’re what I need,” he murmured. “Let’s meet in between.”

Jesse tugged Hanzo closer and they kissed sweetly. “We’re gonna be the greatest love story this world has ever seen.” He pushed his forehead into Hanzo’s, stared into his midnight eyes. “So baby…say yes to me?”

* * *

Jesse shrieked when Fareeha pulled back his hat and poured a glass of water over his face. “Ree!” he complained, sloughing off the water with one hand and using his other to push back his long bangs.

“You’re sweaty and gross,” Fareeha informed him with a wicked grin. She folded herself into the seat beside him. “And you were snoring. Have a nice dream?”

He laughed. “The best,” he said. “I’d found myself a man.”

Fareeha groaned. “Jesse-”

“We went through a lot together,” he continued over her, reaching for his glass of sweet tea that Angela had poured for him when he dropped her and their produce delivery off at The Diner that morning. In the hot June heat the ice had melted and now it was more like syrup and made his tongue and lips feel sticky. “Heartbreak; adventure – redemption!”

His sister groaned again and pitched the cup at him; it bounced off the hand he raised to deflect it. “You don’t  _ understand _ , oats! I think he could be the one!”

“ _ Okht! _ ” Fareeha corrected. “Also, you sicken me.”

Jesse made kissy faces at her and nearly spilled his drink when she spun his hat back like it was a Frisbee. Catching it, he flipped it back on his head in its rightful place and made a finger-gun at her with his free hand. “You’re just jealous of my dream man.”

“Eew,” Fareeha snapped as he tipped his head back to finish the rest of his iced tea. “ _ Anyway _ , lunch is ready – mother sent me down to get you. She made tomato salad with the heirlooms out back and let me tell you...it’s to  _ die _ for, I promise.”

Finishing his drink, Jesse grunted. “Alright,” he said. “Guess I better go wash up.”

“Yeah,” Fareeha said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re disgusting – in more ways than one.”

Jesse made a kissy face at her, picked up the cup she had used to dump water on him, and climbed the hill. “I’m back!” he yelled as he ducked into the dining room. The lunch spread was already out and he eyed the bowl of Ana’s tomato salad as he made his way to the washroom to clean off.

He was nearly bowled over when he opened the door by Pumpkin, who leaped for his face. Fortunately the puppy was still small (if you could call knee-height “small”) and only got as high as his ribs but she still knocked the wind out of him.

“Pumpkin,” he complained but obligingly scratched her ears as she danced and spun around him. “Were you being good?”

“No,” he heard from the kitchen. “But what did you expect from her?”

Jesse slipped into the kitchen and Pumpkin whined, knowing she wasn’t allowed in there. He slipped an arm around Hanzo’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Thought she’d take after you more.”

“Not everyone can be perfect like Chard.” Hearing his name, the cat’s ears pricked up, barely visible where he lay among the plants in the garden window over the sink; his hairless tail flicked where it hung by the spigot. There had been some discussion about his name – Chard or  _ Charred _ – due to his dark grey markings on his somewhat hairless skin which looked like ashes but in the end they gave up because phonetically it was all the same.

Hanzo wiggled when Jesse leaned in to press teasing kisses to his neck. “Honey?”

“Hmm?”

“D’ you remember how we met?”

Jesse smiled when Hanzo. “I was looking for flowers,” he said with the air of one telling a great saga. Perhaps their story was. “And someone directed me to this little produce stand at a nearby farm where I met, against all odds, a fucking cowboy.”

“Fucking cowboy?” Jesse echoed with a laugh. “That didn’t happen until much later!” Without turning around, Hanzo flicked water and suds from the sink at him and Jesse ducked to avoid the spray. Jesse rested his hands on Hanzo’s hips and leaned closer. “And what did you think?”

Hanzo chuckled. “I thought I was lost,” he admitted. “Like I had suddenly ended up in…I don’t know, Texas or something!” He hummed. “But if I had, I was glad to be lost.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hanzo said, bobbing his head in a nod. “Because whatever broken road I was on… [ it let me right to you ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-vZlrBYLSU) .”

Pressing his face against Hanzo’s neck, Jesse chuckled. “And you call  _ me _ a sap.” Hanzo twisted his head to the side for a kiss which Jesse gladly gave. “And then what happened?”

“A lot of things,” Hanzo murmured. “But I got the directions I needed to get to where I was going…” he laughed suddenly. “And I found myself lost for an entirely different reason.”

“Lost how?”

Hanzo continued to laugh with a slightly manic edge. “Lost in your eyes, cowboy,” he said when he calmed down a little. Chard poked his head up from behind a small pot of thyme, deemed them uninteresting, and went back to his nap. “And I found myself constantly getting ‘lost’ just to see you again even though I knew the way.”

Smiling, Jesse wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist and swayed with him in front of the sink. Hanzo continued to wash dishes and Jesse couldn’t find it in him to let go and dry them for him. “I dreamt about us,” he said. “Fell asleep at the stand.”

“Ree and I saw,” he said with a chuckle and Jesse felt something warm bloom in his chest to hear Hanzo call her that. That he was allowed to meant that Fareeha had finally accepted the two of them despite everything. “You looked a little…warm so I suggested she go and cool you off.”

“That was you?” Jesse laughed. “Well she succeeded but I’m feeling warm again and not because of the sun!”

Hanzo gave a bark of explosive laughter and they both heard Chard snort and grunt; the pots shifted as he rolled over.

Leaning down, Jesse pressed a kiss to the hinge of Hanzo’s jaw and pulled back to kiss him properly when he turned his head with a smile. Hanzo let one of his hands drop to tangle with Jesse’s – the ring on Hanzo’s finger clicked against the metal of Jesse’s prosthetic left hand. “You about done, darlin’? I’m starving!”

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo tugged his hand out of Jesse’s and finished washing up. With a damp hand, he tugged on Chard’s tail and he  _ chirr _ ed, annoyed at being bothered. Pumpkin was right where he left her, wiggling just beyond the boundaries of her electric collar and she lunged for him again when he crossed the threshold. “Lunch time!” he told her and she raced for the dining room. If there was one thing she learned, it was the names of meals and he knew they’d find her waiting impatiently by her bowl. “Where’s our other kid?”

He couldn’t hear anything more Hanzo said, too distracted by the sight his husband made. Chard was cuddled in Hanzo’s arms, his legs extended in a stretch that had his ears pinned back and his toes spread. The summer sun streaming in through the window haloed Hanzo in golden light and an end of his golden hair ribbon – the very same one that Jesse had given him for Christmas what felt like decades ago – hung over a shoulder. Chard batted at it absently before resting his paw on it and closing his pale blue eyes for another nap.

“What’s wrong?” Hanzo asked as he approached. He shifted Chard gently and cupped Jesse’s jaw with his free hand.

Jesse gently lifted Chard (who grunted and grumbled in annoyance) out of Hanzo’s hands and let him spill like liquid to the ground where he stretched and began cleaning himself as if that had been the plan all along. Wrapping an arm around Hanzo’s waist, he reeled him closer and they rocked for a moment to the memory of their wedding song. “Not a damn thing,” he murmured, leaning closer for a kiss.

Pulling back, Hanzo chuckled. When Jesse made an inquisitive noise, he tangled the fingers of their hands together and leaned closer. “ [ Thank God for good directions ](https://youtu.be/DY9D01WPIN0?t=188) .”

Smiling, Jesse turned Hanzo’s hand to press a kiss first to his handwriting around Hanzo’s wrist and then to the large sunflower on the back of his hand. “And  _ Ofelias _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The very end!
> 
> It feels so weird for this to be over. When I was looking back at the first chapter, I realized that I had originally started it all the way back in May. Originally I wasn't going to post it and when I did, I hadn't expected to get any response for it.
> 
> But...all things must come to an end at some point I guess haha. I will probably continue writing for this in some way but that will probably be AFTER I finish NaNoWriMo this month. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone that's stuck around to watch these two idiots. The comments and kudos you've left always make me smile. 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
